The Sunspear's Lion
by jinglebellsisawesome
Summary: "Robert Baratheon is to marry Cersei." "I know Father, the prospect of having your daughter as a Queen has been on your mind ever since the days of the Mad King. But what am I to make of this?" "You will marry Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne. It would seem that I require the need for a daughter of mine to be a Princess too." Nothing good can ever come out of this marriage...right?
1. Chapter 1

The Sunspear's Lion

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Tya Lannister stood outside, enjoying the way the Sun's heat rolled off of her and warmed her up despite the emotional numbing cold she feels inside. The cool wind breeze soothed the Sun's harsh burn, licking her skin gently. She was alone. It was one of the very few times she was less than ten feet away from her twin. She enjoyed his company and his sharp wit; he could quite easily make for an interesting conversation or he could also prove a formidable player in their frequent battles of wits that they both engaged in.

But, just for once, she found herself uncaring about the absence of her favourite dwarf brother and she relished in her solitude away from him. It was in times like these where she craved her own shadow for company instead of somebody else's accompanying them, somebody who could not possibly understand her emotional turmoil and heartache. Plus, the additional factor remained that the one emotion she despised above all others would be written, as clear as day for his twin to see, all over his malformed big head: Pity. And if there was one thing Tya hated most in the world; it was pity.

Oh, he thought she couldn't be able to see it, that he would be able to hid his true emotions in regards to her. And it worked on everyone else, for the most part; their father was another who was always able to see through Tyrion's "deceits", as their father calls it. But he so easily forgets - it so easily escapes his stunted little mind - that she is, and always will be, his twin. His other half. And, as such, she has always been able to read him like a book. Especially in regards to his wife for two weeks: Tysha.

So she takes a deep breath, inhaling pure, sweet air alongside all of the natural fragrances that she liked the most in this small garden of solitude, and she steels herself for the _pitter-patter_ of tiny feet waddling over towards her as best they can. Prepares herself to counteract that much-loathed expression she knew would be smeared across his face as they had both once smeared mud all over Cersei's smug face. And she waits, patiently.

All too soon, however, the Sun begins to disappear across the horizon, dipping deeper and deeper under the clouds until it is no longer visible to the naked eye. Along with it goes the heat and warmth which leaves her body in waves just as the winds begin to pick up violently, raking her slender figure in gut-wrenching shivers. The trees submerging her begin to shake themselves; leaves crackling against the harshness of the wind. Tya's teeth begin to chatter quietly to themselves. Her ragged exhales of air turn to smoke before her very eyes and she turns towards Casterly Rock with all the fondness Robert Baratheon has for a name ending in _Targaryen_, unwilling to watch the only sanctuary of freedom be torn apart by a rough wind.

As she enters her foreboding, and somewhat frightening, household, she is greeted with her long-time friend: silence. For which she is immensely grateful for. She had no desire to bear witness to her sister's smug sneers nor her older brother's cold emerald eyes, so much like a snake's. She didn't even wish to witness her twin brother, who she was sure would have been staring at her with sadness replacing his usually lust-filled green orbs or watch the pity take shape on his normal, jovial features. And she especially did _not_ want to have to bear witness to their father's indifferent demeanour, as if it didn't trouble him the way it did her when he so easily cast her aside and brushed off her weak protests to the matter. That would only serve to infuriate her even more and she'd had enough anger in this present day to last a lifetime - she almost certainly didn't need anymore!

The only sound that broke the eerie quiet was that of her heels as she saunters as quietly as she can over to the kitchens. Esma, her maid and one of her very few friends she has left in this world - would be asleep right at this very minute and Tya did not want to risk waking her; especially not over something as simple as pouring herself a cup of tea. Besides, the Lannister woman knew the basics of living in a household much more so than her thick-headed older brother, something she liked to pride herself in from time to time.

As she set about preparing the mundane necessity of pouring a cup of tea for herself, she allowed her mind to briefly wonder over to her - and Tyrion's - neglected childhood. How they both had tried so desperately to please their father and garner at least an _ounce_ of grudging respect from the man whom is, arguably, one of the most powerful men in Westeros. But, there was only so much they could do to prove their worth to him before the hard message came reared its ugly head and sunk in. And so they two closed their hearts off - hers much more guarded than her twin's given his brief marital change in status - and turned their focus on their shared dry humour.

They used to play something of a game, of sorts, to share their recent disasters in life over a cup of wine (or two) before laughing at their own shared misfortune. It became a challenge of who can garner the most laughter at their failures of life. Tyrion usually won, what with his blatant disfigurement that had all of Westeros sneering and jeering at behind his back. Let us not also forget about Tysha: Tyrion's two-week wife. However, there were times where she surpassed her little brother at, albeit they were too few, particularly when it came to Cersei and their other brother, Jamie, whom Tyrion worshipped as if he were a deity for being the only one other than her not to smirk at him when he passed by the halls. It was a shame that he did not do the same for Tya, although that was probably due to the time where she once smashed his tiny little cock in when he made fun of Tyrion. She liked to think that it was because of that little incident that he finally realised who exactly Tyrion was to him; family.

Although, her self-absorbent older brother and twisted sister tended to have more than just a bone to pick with her, if she were lucky. Between Cersei's cold remarks and Jamie's heated glares, the two twins didn't exactly rank very high on Tya's list of people she enjoyed being around. But she didn't help matters when she once played a spider inside of Cersei's china tea cup filled to the brim with hot tea and watched with sick fascination as eight skinny legs wriggled around desperately around Cersei's painted lips as she delicately drank from it. It was probably the best revenge she had ever performed on her sweet sister and it was so close to perfection too; if it wasn't for that big oaf of a brother who told both Cersei and their father what her actions have just caused. However, even the dark stench of the dungeon cellar she was forced to sleep in for the night didn't damped her joyous mood as she replayed the mental image of the spider falling head first down into the dark of Cersei's mouth. Tyrion couldn't look at their sister for three weeks when she told him.

_Tyrion_. A small pang vibrated through her heart as the image of her favourite dwarf swam to mind. How could she have forgotten him? How could she not say goodbye to the one thing that made her life bearable? For now, she reflected miserably, she'll never even have his own failing life to keep her smiling nor his company to keep her from going insane. Lord Tywin Lannister would no doubt have her shipped off to Dorne as soon as possible and she wouldn't even have her messed-up family and their maddening tendencies to make her feel normal - now she would have to experience what normality actually was. Tya knew that she had it bad when she realised that she was going to _miss_ the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. If only Tyrion could see her now...

She absent-mindedly took a tentative sip of self-made tea. He would probably be laughing at her right at this very second for her odd notions of sentimentality and say that not even the Seven Hells would prevent him from seeing his favourite Lannister. _What would she say in return?_ A small smile curled at her lips as countless possibilities sprang to mind. She would probably smack him firmly in his short arm for calling her odd but she would also be touched at his brotherly love for her and she, herself, would swear the same vow that not even their father would stop her from wanting to see him and his abnormally large head once more.

With a sigh, though, she was snapped back to the harsh-cold truth of reality. Tywin would be able to keep her and her twin separate from one another and, doubtless, all of the Seven Hells would be all too willing to mutilate them both for the crimes their House has inflicted upon others. And then, to the entirety of Westeros' shock and horror, their father proclaims that his youngest daughter is to marry into the House who take the rape and murder of women and children very seriously. All the while, of course, he rewards his eldest, who has done absolutely nothing to maintain his patience, he makes Cersei Queen. A testimony to how little he cares about his youngest. Tya would probably be hung, drawn and quartered within the hour of her arrival at Sunspear and her sister would be lavished and adored.

There was a persistent nagging feeling present that kept digging into her. It made no clear sense why Lord Tywin would marry her off to the second son of the previous Prince of Dorne whose House was in mourning due to her family's late involvement in Robert's Rebellion. It also wasn't a secret that her husband-to-be wanted to carry on the war and avenge his sister and niece and nephew by attempting to champion the exiled Viserys Targaryen, much to Robert Baratheon's chagrin.

Not that it mattered much, she concluded. They'll soon find out her lord father's motives behind her marriage arrangement and House Martell would face yet another betrayal from their most loathed House. Yet another reason why she and her future lord husband would never be civilised in each other's presence. This much Tya could foretell about her upcoming marriage.

The clock chimed midnight beside her. She jumped and almost spilled the tea she was holding shakily in one hand. _Midnight._ They would all be asleep right now. She'd missed her time for saying farewells; come dawn and Lord Tywin will have already shipped her off to Dorne without a single person there to witness her disappearance. _No one there to hear_. It reminded her of House Reyne and what her lord father had done to preserve the Lannister legacy. The whole House was completely wiped from existence save for their hidden treasures which now decorate the halls of Casterly Rock quite nicely, thank you very much.

She shook her head once to banish her gruesome trail of thoughts from her head. There was no point in worrying about it, she hummed as she tidied up the remnants of her drink, for it's probably going to happen to her either way, regardless of her upcoming status as a Princess of Dorne.

Tya headed up the stairs slowly but surely in an attempt not to rouse any of her family members or any of the staff. She wasn't in the right frame of mind to be able to handle an early morning future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If that was but a glimpse of Cersei's royal reign then Tya feared for Westeros' future at the hands of their tyrannical queen.

Her heels clicked down the long, cold corridors even as she carefully placed one foot in front, on in front of the other, on the ground with care. Stifling a yawn, she continued on her long and arduous trek back to her long-awaited chambers where she could have but a few hours of slumber before the first light approaches. Tya loved how much her father cared about his youngest daughter.

As she approached her chambers, two things happened almost simultaneously. The first was that her chamber doors have been clawed open viciously, judging by the gaping scrape marks decorating the outside of it. That then brought her to the second realisation: she was not alone.

Icy fear gripped her heart and her blood ran as cold as the winds of the North. Somebody had violated her privacy and was probably still in there right now, awaiting her long arrival. Her mind drew up the images of the possible suspects Tya thought it could be. Her sweet sister was the main suspect - _this was her doing, I bet_ \- but Tya knew that her sweet sister wouldn't dare do this now, not when all eyes were on her and her engagement to the all famous Red Viper of Dorne. _Then who could it be?_

All too soon, however, the unmistakable slurp of wine indicated to Tya exactly who her violator was. A hot surge of anger quickly melted the bitter after-taste of fear she felt. Her fists clenched by her sides as her jaw clamped shut of its own accord, gritting the teeth in rage. She hauled her doors open wide with little resistance due to the previous breaking and entering, and headed inside.

"What are you doing?" The younger of the two Lannister ladies growled dangerously low, still aware of the close proximity her and the other Lannister family members are currently residing and their spying servants.

Tyrion Lannister clambered unsteadily to his feet. A cup of Dornish red wine was held rather loosely in his grasp, too loose, Tya thought.

"Aha! Tya!" he proclaimed loudly followed by a rather big hiccup. He was probably, even in his drunken stupor, well aware of the fact that their sweet sister's chambers were directly opposite her's and was being purposefully loud to distract her from her beauty sleep before being married to the most powerful man in Westeros - or, at least, one of them.

Wine spilled freely from the sudden change in its bearer's position, causing it to fall freely from its confinements and slosh messily on the expensive carpet their father had bought for her. No doubt Tyrion would have a severe telling off to come the morning.

"Oh, fuck!" Tyrion cursed loudly before proffering the whole goblet to her in one fell swoop. "Would you like some refreshment, dear sister? The Dornish wine is particularly-"

Tya slapped away the golden cup with abandon. Tyrion watched mournfully as the goblet smashed all over the place, wine flowing in a red river. He gazed forlornly at the lost substance.

"-good." He cleared his throat and swayed dangerously before righting himself on her bedside table. A drunken grin soon spread across his face. "But then, I suppose, you don't need any Dornish wine to keep you company for much longer, do you, Tya? Not with that new Dornish Prince of yours you're destined to marry." He cocked his head to one side, lost in the haze of alcohol. "What was his name again? It was something beginning with O. Obyla, Odair, _O' and there was no one there...to hear!_"

"Oberyn," she cut off tersely, not wanting a rendition of her family's most famous tune.

He clicked his fingers. "That's the one! I knew I would get there eventually." His expression suddenly turned dark and his eyes grew cold as he addressed, "Were you even going to say goodbye to your little brother? You know, your own _twin_," he spat harshly.

"I was! I... I just didn't have any desire to be seeing that pitying look you were bound to wear and - oh, don't deny it," she whispered fervently as he protested. "You know it to be true. I'll be gone come dawn anyway, off to my new husband. You'll probably have forgotten me in a moon's time."

It seemed that her words had struck something in his sobriety. His eyes turned downcast and when he raised his head she witnessed the saddened look that was marring her twin's face and something inside of her gut twisted painfully as she watched his reaction to her honest words.

"I just... just don't want to lose my sister."

Tya wouldn't profuse it but that was what she greatly desired too. She didn't want to be lost in a foreign new country where she would be shot down with every glare that was directed towards her. She wanted to remain _here_, at Casterly Rock, in Lannisport, where she and Tyrion would try and figure out new ways to ruin their sweet sister's plans or to horrifically humiliate Tywin Lannister with one of their spectacular drunken nights. Her twin would be with a whore, naturally. It was _home_.

Nonetheless, she was deeply touched by her twin's words to her. The abandoned chalice crashed on to her carpet as a result of Tyrion's erratic swaying and knocking over the whole of his wine stash as he desperately awaited her arrival. He let out a string of curses at the loud crash but otherwise made no further move to pick it up. She lifted a dainty eyebrow when he instead directed his sweet and innocent directions on to his twin. After a while, Tya broke the spell with a snicker and watched with glee as Tyrion raised his head from his previous defeated stance to stare at her in bemusement. Before long, both the Lannister twins were sharing in their combined peels of laughter.

Laughter was the one thing that the Lannister twins relied on to see them through in life. While most _ordinary _people would simply cry over their awkward situations, Lord Tywin drove in to his children that to cry was to be weak. And if there was one thing you should never do in life, it was to show weakness. "A lion is not a sheep," was one of infamous teachings.

It was a welcome change for Tya, she realised, to be able to let loose her emotions in a whole whirlwind instead of stifling them up and pretending that everything's okay. Because it wasn't, and it probably never would be from here on out; at least, not in Tya's viewpoint. But at least she had this night which she would forever hold and cherish in her heart before it would be replaced by rage and contempt from the Martell Prince.

Their laughter died out before long, still with a case of the giggles as they waited for the remnants of their laughter to dissipate. Tya briefly glanced over at Tyrion to see whether he needed the release as much as she did and it appeared that she had been proven right. Her heart softened for him. _It can't be easy knowing that everybody you meet will snicker at you behind your back_.

She made a vow there and then that when she was a Princess of Dorne then she would not stand for anybody making fun of dwarves or cripples. There was no point in swearing before the Gods that she make sure that the bastards of Dorne are treated fairly because she knew that they were far more tolerant of children born outside of marriage than the rest of Westeros will ever be in their lifetime.

"Oh, Gods. I needed that," her twin sighed as he tilted his head back as if awaiting for some heat from the Sun to warm up his face. Tya shivered as that thought hit her; it was chilly in here.

"Well, I had better get back to my own chambers. We wouldn't want people to believe that we were actually having a normal conversation in here, do you, Tya?"

She rolled her eyes at his attempt at humour. The effort was lessened slightly by the lingering wet trail of tears still tracked on his cheeks.

"You know as well as I do that any conversation we do have, Tyrion, is not as normal as you make it out to be."

The handsome grin was back on her twin's face, bathing Tya in its glory. "That I do, sister. That I do."

Tya watched as her little brother swaddled over to the broken door of her chambers - he at least had the good grace to look ashamed of his poor conduct before opening his mouth and announcing that it was just due to the wine he had - and she knew without a doubt what she would do next was risky and would entice questions should they get caught.

Swallowing dryly, she called out, "Wait, brother. You can stay here with me for the night."

Tyrion's eyes widened at his sibling's demand. Did she not know how bad it would look for them should they be caught. "I-"

"It will only be for tonight. I promise. I... I can't sleep on my own. Not anymore. " And the saddest part was that it was the truth tumbling out of Tya Lannister's painted mouth.

She could see that her words were having some effect on her brother. She waited patiently and resisted the urge to cry out with joy as she saw him cave in to her request with a mock-aggravated groan.

"I'm not telling Father when we get caught," he warned as he slid on to the couch.

This time Tya _did_ roll her eyes. "_If _we get caught. And I'm not tidying up whatever mess you made that I, apparently, made you make."

"...That made more sense in your head, didn't it?"

"Shut up, brother." Tya could practically feel the man's smirk as she uttered the childish words. She knew they were coming but she did not have the heart to refuse them. She yearned to be a child again, so innocent and pure against the horrors of the world.

Tyrion blew out the candle next to him and plunged her room in darkness. She knew that it would not be long now until he started snoring. Once he's had his fill of wine, he never stopped making noise all through the night whether he be in the company of dignified ladies of the court or in the whorehouses. Tya smiled gently and turned over in her bed, knowing that it would be for the last time.

And when the dawn did approach, when Tywin Lannister ordered for her to up and ready as soon as possible, she looked around and found no trace of her brother. Save for a note tucked into the goblet she had smashed the night prior. Picking it up gently, as if it held all the answers in it, she read it. And she laughed. Somehow, with the note tucked securely amongst her things, Tya knew that at least she had her brother, if nothing else. And she knew, without a doubt in her heart, that she would survive whatever torture the Dornishmen would put her through. For him. For her little brother. And for a promise she had to keep.

_A lion still has claws, sister. And, remember, make sure that you give me more Dornish wine while you're there. I'll need more for when Cersei awakens. - Tyrion_


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh. My. Gosh. I cannot even comprehend the amount of favourites, followers and views this story has gotten. Seriously, guys, you are the best. 37 favourites, 55 followers, 9 reviews _and_ 751 views all just in _one week_?! Incredible. Thank you all so much. You guys are _amazing_! I cannot believe so many people liked this story. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.**

**Oh, and a little disclaimer - because I forgot to do it last time: I do not own _Game of Thrones_ or anything belonging to the _A Song of Ice and Fire_ series (although I do own copies of it). They all belong to the amazing George R.R Martin.**

**Also, on a little side note, who else watched the first episode of season five? I did! It was amazing!**

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Tya's first thought of Dorne was that it was scorching hot. The heat threatened to swallow her whole, engulfing her in its swelter. Within the first few seconds of her arrival, she was already being stifled in the customary fashions the Southern woman traditionally wear. Not that she show such emotions to outsiders, she would not be responsible for giving them any cause to weaken her form.

Their horses galloped on throughout Dorne, encountering many a people. Children ran up to them with such vigour, eager to meet their new Princess. Tya smiled at one or two with respect but the little children were soon hauled away from their parents who glared up at her with hate present in their eyes. She could not honestly blame them; if she were born of another family, she would probably be suspicious of the name Lannister almost as much as the people of Dorne did. Although they had more reason than most to despise her House given their recent exploitations against the previous Princess Elia and her young children. They no doubt viewed her as an imposter who was so ready to take their previous monarchs place steal away all of her love and kindness. If the assumption weren't so troubling, Tya would have almost laughed. There was no need for them to be troubled at her taking over the previous Princess's position for Tya wasn't as ladylike and kind as Elia was rumoured to have been.

And so they journeyed on, the horses strides coming hard and fast as they headed to their destination of the Prince's castle in Sunspear. With every trot dented into the ground, Tya felt her resolve weakening and the taste of fear building up in the back of her throat like bile. She resisted the urge to release the contents of her stomach and instead comforted herself with the mental image of her brother, Tyrion, and the promise that she vowed to keep.

_That damned debt,_ she cursed_, if it weren't for my Lannister heritage I would have ordered the men to turn back as soon as we set out on this journey to meet my __betrothed_.

Nonetheless, she was born a Lannister - something she has particularly attempted to deny in vain towards many people in her relatively short lifetime - and so inherited many of the rules and regulations that came along with her rich ancestry. Something Lord Tywin enforced into his household; '_never ever forget who your family are_' was another one of his teachings_ '__because I will not have our family name be ruined all because you four could not maintain your dignities'._

Tya allowed a small, aggravated sigh pass her by at the pure, unaltered memory of her lord father. When the first rays of light flittered in through her open window whence dawn came, Lord Tywin's guards barged into her private chambers, startling the young woman from her sleep rudely. A feeling of dread had passed her by then as her eyes quickly scanned her suspiciously quite room for any hint of her little twin brother but - _thank the living Gods_ \- nobody forbidden was occupying her room for their own entertainment. With that small taste of victory in the back of her throat, the younger of the Lannister ladies did as she was bid.

As she allowed her small frame to be dragged roughly along the eerily silent halls of what was once her home, her previous assumption of being hurriedly cast out to Dorne without witnessing one of her family's smug faces was proved false. Once she was finally free from her harsh confinements of being an unmarried Lannister child _'doing nothing but drag the proud Lannister legacy through the dirt_' - one of Tywin Lannister's such words of wisdom shared most often with his youngest set of twins -, she was pleasantly surprised to catch the eye of her lord father's impassive glare himself.

_Nothing's changed there at least, _came the unbidden thought. For both she and her twin had been the lucky duo privy to his disappointed stares and stern lectures. At a single nod of the head from, arguably, the most powerful man in Westeros, the guards; Ser Amory Lorch, her mind supplied rather unhelpfully - everyone knew what the man's horrific actions had resulted in during the Sack of King's Landing; yet another reminder that her marriage was not to be a happy one - helped the young lady of Casterly Rock on to the brilliantly white horse situated right in front of her.

Her head had snapped painfully around. She stared at her father with a look of disbelieving shock. The snow-white mare snorting gracefully in front of her once belonged to her late mother: the fair Lady Joanna Lannister. The smallfolk situated around Lannisport had once whispered amongst themselves of the possible reincarnation of their lady in a young Tya Lannister. Tya had felt touched at their comparison between Lady Joanna and herself, for she had never known her dead mother to be sure of their likeness entirely, but that flattery had quickly morphed into fear when Tywin one day caught the smallfolk's rumours. And from then on, no one ever mentioned their deceased lady of Casterly Rock again.

So it made no coherent sense to her now then, at least in her mind, why the most frightening man in all of Westerosi history would think about bestowing such a gift as this upon his youngest daughter. Not that she dared question his motives, of course, which is why she let the unanswered questions wither and die on her tongue before they had a chance to speak up. She gave a small nod, once, to signify her wordless gratitude. If she voiced her appreciation out loud she knew, without a doubt, that she would be silenced with harsh, cold words that were typical of the Lord of House Lannister. And, contrary to popular belief, that wasn't how she wanted her last meeting with her father to end, despite how much Tyrion would laugh over it later. So she figured that a single nod would suffice in this situation.

As if she wasn't confused enough as it as, before they departed completely, she caught sight of a slight softening around the stoic man's pale blue orbs, glistening the orbs with with Lord Tywin's respect and admiration, allowing it to shine through on to his daughter. The look vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, however, in such a quick notion that she almost believed she had dreamt the whole thing up in her early morning delusions. But, deep down in her very soul, she knew that she wasn't hallucinating that gaze. And that gave her enough inner courage to brave on Dorne - brave on Sunspear and House Martell as well - with all of her might.

Tya was brought out of her reverie by the sudden halt of their horses. She was grateful for the blood red - at the insistence of her lord father - hood concealing her identity. Now that they were firmly integrated in Dorne, they were completely at the mercy of the many Dornishmen around them - and Tya had no doubt about it in her heart that her family name would not win her any favours from the smallfolk of Dorne. She tightened the cloak around her unconsciously.

"Who goes there?" A man in typical Dornish fashion inquired, his spear poised directly in front of the young Lannister woman.

"Lord Tywin's daughter; the Lady Tya of House Lannister herself."

Tya wasn't so sure that it was wise to have spoken her identity out loud when the man jutted his spear forwards to come face-to-face with her father's knight. She was rather confused, however, as to why the man had opted to threaten her guard instead of the woman who no one particularly desired to be their Princess. It made no clear sense.

"Protecting little girls, are we?" the man sneered coldly before hacking up a string of saliva and spitting it on to the ground where it landed with a distinctive _splat_. "Because that's what you do best, isn't it?"

And that was when it hit her: Ser Amory Lorch. One of the men solely responsible for the murders of their beloved Princess Elia and her young children who were ripped so cruelly from the world. She was struck by the man's fierce devotion for his royal family and she briefly allowed her imagination to wander over her own upcoming status as a Princess of Dorne. Would she be adored just as fiercely as Elia and her children so obviously were?

Tya mentally scoffed as soon as the thought entered her head. Princess Elia was famous throughout the whole of Dorne - and, indeed, throughout the whole of Westeros - for her fair looks and kind-hearted nature. Not to mention that she was born of a family that, while certainly not holding enough riches or gold as the proud lions implied through their stature, did not hold a much more recent history of brutal murders and cunning tricks. No, she concluded with a twinge of sadness, to hold on to hope of such a ludicrous notion was almost as damaging as thinking it up in the first place.

"I don't serve little girls, _Dornish_; perhaps you'd best remember that."

Tya lifted a previously limp hand to halt the growing animosity between the two men before it got out of hand. "Gentlemen," she called out firmly, inwardly praying to the Gods that her voice did not betray her nervousness, "Gentlemen, please. We have travelled very far and wide to reach this place. Dorne is not exactly right next to Casterly Rock." Her attempt at a jest was met with bemused expressions from both the men she was conversing with and the many smallfolk that had congregated around the foreign men and woman who had infiltrated their country.

Nevertheless, she pressed on anxiously, "I have a betrothal to your Prince Oberyn of House Martell-" this sudden influx of knowledge caused a collective gasp to resonate throughout the eager crowd and Tya began to frown at their unexpected reaction; hadn't her arrival been anticipated? "and I doubt that neither he nor Prince Doran would be pleased if I arrive late because _you_ refused to gain me entrance."

Her stern argument caused the Dornishman to bark a laugh devoid of mirth. She was mildly perplexed, she didn't think she had uttered anything particularly humorous.

"And _I_ doubt very much," both Tya and her father's men bristled at the man's tone, "that neither Prince Doran or Prince Oberyn would care in the slightest if your arrival is a little late." At this, the man leaned forward and she stretched as far as she could go whilst still seated on her mare. "Between you and me," he whispered menacingly, "I think that they would prefer it that way; it'd give them hope that you would _never_ arrive."

Tya felt a sharp burst of anger erupt within her at the man's harsh words. While she could not deny that the man's words were spoken in truth, she had at least bargained for one man to speak up in denial of the truth. Or someone who would attempt to sugar coat it so she could swallow it down better. Was chivalry dead in Dorne?

As the man began to back away, certain that his words had done the necessary damage he required, Tya snatched the thin material of his tunic, with a strength she did not know she possessed, and dragged him back down to her level with the same level of care his words had achieved.

"And what of the wrath of Lord Tywin Lannister," she argued back ardently, "you know, _my father_? Because I have reason to believe that he would not take this slight against him and his own very well. You know what he does to those who wrong him..."

She did not like using her father's name as a weapon to fight her battles but she knew that if she was not permitted entrance into Sunspear then her father would be enraged. Contrary to popular belief, she did not desire another rendition of the Sack of King's Landing.

It seemed that her threats had struck something akin to fear into the heart of the man standing before her as he noticeably flinched at her words. Tya felt her heart soften but forced herself to keep her expression neutral. She could not afford to allow her charade to crumble before the watching eyes of everyone present or else they would never respect her - something she had learned for herself by taking her lord father and even the newly-crowned King Robert Baratheon as an example. If you showed any weakness to your enemies then they would never fear you; and fear is the key to survival, as her sweet sister would often inform her.

However, where Cersei would relish in the fear and pure humiliation she had caused the man, Tya felt nothing but a small throb of guilt. To strike fear into the heart's of men was something her sister strove for and, despite the sickening feeling it left behind to fester in her stomach, she knew that it was the only way for a peaceful rule.

Although, anything her sister accomplished appeared to contribute towards anything but a peaceful rule. It was something of a lifelong goal of hers: to live in peace was to live in boredom and that '_was the reason why people die early_', she had once told a young Tya Lannister in one of her rare acts of kindness. Or, rather, the Cersei Lannister equivalent of kindness.

The man gulped before nodding slowly, motioning to his fellow guards to allow both her and her small Lannister party through the city gates. She glimpsed Amory Lorch through a victorious smirk towards the frightened man but she could not find it within herself to care. She was too paranoid about how her first meeting with the Prince would go.

Of course, she realised that it wouldn't go smoothly. She wasn't so naive as to cherish that faint notion in her heart. No. But she did not desire for it to fall into ruin in catastrophic proportions before she had even made it down the altar in sight of the Gods. Not that it could be helped, for the whole of Westeros knew the amount of strong hostility her Prince felt for her family; for _her_. And she knew that, despite whatever she could display to the contrary, that hatred would not go away so easily, if ever.

Their horses trotted on past the open gates, reaching settlement of the city shadowing Sunspear. A number of faces peered up at them, their eagerness shining through on their expressions which were fixated on them; trying desperately to see what was concealed behind their cloaks and helmets. However, not even the young, innocent faces of the children could lift Tya's downtrodden spirits. All she wanted to do was go back to her home - and back to the place where she only had to face the resentment portrayed on her already disappointed family rather than the having to deal with the hidden resentment her new family would feel for her.

Not for the first time, Tya found herself envying her older sister, just a little bit, for her predicament that differed greatly from Tya's own. She did not envy her sweet sister for her new place as Queen - most definitely not. She envied Cersei for the family she was being shipped away off to, for the Lannisters had not directly caused a great insult to the newly-crowned royal family but instead had actually helped them win the war, if only by being the first ones to infiltrate and sack King's Landing in one of the most monstrous crimes in history, all in Robert Baratheon's name. Tya envied Cersei for the security she would be warranted whereas Tya was sure that she would have to employ a taster to sample all of her refreshment to check for any hidden poisons. Everyone knew of Prince Oberyn's fascination with poisons.

Tya shook her head to banish such thoughts before they took root. It was foolish to dwell on the possibility of her murder. Besides, Dorne was already being kept on a tight leash following their previous alliance during Robert's Rebellion and, as such, could not afford to kill the daughter born of the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms and the sister of the future Queen of Westeros, no matter how strained her relationships with the both of them had become.

She comforted herself with those thoughts and grudgingly allowed herself to be led on deeper into the heart of the snake pit, where she would be forced into a potentially scarring marriage.

"Excuse me- um, excuse me!"

Tya and her company swiftly snapped their heads around at the sudden commotion. A small boy, a squire of some sort, came running out, seemingly from nowhere, clutching a handful of items pressed tightly towards his breast. He dashed up to their small party, reaching no higher than their horses, being forced to crane his neck painfully to be able to speak coherently.

"You are Tya Lannister, are you not?"

Ser Amory Lorch's gloved fist briefly touched the tip of his sword in response to the man's question but Tya simply inclined her head to the side in response. She did not fancy another argument to brew between the two as she anticipated would if she did not step in and take charge this time round.

"I am," she replied firmly, her green eyes flashing as they settled on the boy's own.

She watched in slight fascination at the delicate pink flush that managed to pigment the boy's tan skin. It was not a reaction that she was used to witnessing, lest of all by her own hand; those things were left up to Cersei to stir and cause rather than her younger sister. Strangely, though, she was slightly flattered by the gesture and was once again eternally grateful for the dark red hood that masked her smile.

"I have been ordered by Prince Doran to welcome you into his royal home in Sunspear," he fumbled quietly. He coughed; possibly to rid himself of his strange ailment and gestured towards the tall, empowering palace to their right. Tya could not help but gasp at the image it portrayed - _this_ was the seat of House Martell; this huge, beautiful palace: the Water Gardens. And it was everything she had dreamt of and more. It was almost worth marrying the Prince just so she could call it home.

Just as quickly as the emotion came, the magic was gone as the squire continued, "And I am sure that Prince Doran is eagerly awaiting your presence. I believe that he is most anxious to see you have arrived safely in Dorne."

Tya forced a small, weak grin to mar her facial features into a grimace. _She_ was sure that Prince Doran would have rathered her to have set foot in his country, never mind marrying his only remaining sibling. Unfortunately for the both of them, there was nothing that could be done about her and his brother's betrothal unless they were all prepared to face down the wrath of Tywin Lannister himself. However, something was telling her that Dorne would not survive another hardship from the Warden of the West.

Thankfully, the younger Lannister lady was spared having to reply to such a blatant lie by one of her loyal guards, "And my Lady is most anxious to meet Prince Doran also, as well as her betrothed, Prince Oberyn." He did not wait for her response. "But we have travelled far and are weary. May you be so kind as to show us the way in?"

If the poor squire was nervous about allowing Lannister soldiers inside his lord's walls, he did not show it. With a single nod of his head in sign of his consent, all ten of her father's men had disengaged themselves from their horses, as well as leaning over to help their Lady of House Lannister down as gently as they could. The squire ordered one of the Dornishmen patrolling the city to round up all of their company's horses and lay them gently in the stables where they could recoup before spinning around to deal with the remaining men and lady in his midst.

He bowed low, his forehead almost scrapping the ground roughly. "If you would follow me please gentlemen, and my lady," he said with a small aimed in her direction to which she acknowledged shyly, "I will show you to my Prince Doran Martell at once."


	3. Chapter 3

**I cannot believe the episode 5x02. I squealed so hard. I'm not going to spoil anything but Arya's plotline is rapidly becoming my favourite! I am really rooting for her.**

**Just to avoid any confusion, I am slightly changing Lancel Lannister's age to twelve years old where he would otherwise have been two years old by the timeline of this story. **

**Oh, and I realised that it wasn't the Tower of the Sun that House Martell resided in; it was the Water Gardens so I will be changing that shortly so it is accurate. **

**Also, thank you so much for all of your kind reviews, favourites, followers and views. I am serious when I say that they are a huge help to me for motivation and inspiration so I thank you all. **

**I hope you all enjoy this new chapter and please let me know what you think of it!**

* * *

As the stern, strong doors were parted in a cruel mockery of welcome for Tya and her party, they ventured inside the brightly-lit halls with more than just an ounce of fear - Tya especially. For the other members journeying with her hadn't been granted the honour; or dishonour, depending on which side you viewed it from, of being born with the name Lannister attached to their status. She reigned in a chocked gulp as the squire urged them on fervently.

Still to this day, Tya Lannister could not decide which fate was worse. Being held with as much freedom as a man condemned to death in Casterly Rock or to be slain where she stood inside the passionately hot gates of Sunspear. Were she not in the company of men whose true motives were still in question, she would have shook her head sternly for feeding her ludicrous thoughts. They didn't need to be fed any more than they already more; they were being given enough strength to grow as it was.

The young squire led the party deeper into the heart of the Water Gardens, flanked by two of her guards, for which she was grateful for. The warm feeling of security helped give her the necessary strength she knew she would be required to gain in order to survive the Martells of Dorne.

They came to an abrupt stop, courtesy of one of House Martell's many guards. She took note of the raised number of arms present around Sunspear and the Water Gardens - it was much more than what was deemed the norm for protecting a Lord of Lady. But the head of House Martell was neither a Lord or a Lady, he was a Prince. Maybe that was why they had deemed it fit to change the number of guards situated around Dorne.

As soon as that thought came to her, she scoffed inwardly. Not just being a Prince wasn't the sole reason for the increase of guards. It was because of her presence in their beloved city - a city which had suffered enough tragedy at the hands of her family - they feared her. Also combined with Prince Doran's newfound illness that had been rumoured to have infiltrated his vulnerable and taken root deep inside of him. Tya wasn't sure which scenario seemed to scare her more: her Lannister heritage or Dorne's beloved ruler being paralysed by this plague.

Sunlight shone on one of the guard's faces as he raised his voice to speak, "You are not to be here. The Prince is being prepared for the arrival for the Lady Tya of House Lannister." Tya didn't miss the way he spat out her name as if the very word left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Yes, good, Ser." Their squire offered up to the rather stoic guard. "And I am here with the _Lady Tya of House Lannister_ herself and her most trustworthy of her guards."

Tya wasn't sure she agreed with the young boy's assessment of her guard's loyalty - clearly he hadn't heard of the disaster one of her guards had caused to his liege Prince's family.

However, it seemed that the Dornish guard was also of this very same opinion, judging by the noticeable tightening of his clenched fists and the slight hardening of his face as it sought out hers amongst her large crowd.

"The Lady wasn't supposed to be here until sundown." His dark orbs stopped the search for hers and instead settled on the squire's, surprisingly green, own. He spoke with a rough undertone that contrasted heavily with his natural Dornish accent.

Tya frowned at the man's words, spoken as if they were accusations. Why, if she was not supposed to arrive until sundown - the time was only past noon as it was - had her father ordered her leave at first light all those days ago? The ride to Dorne may be a long one but it certainly wasn't _that _far. She recalled the lack of pure confusion that betrayed the smallfolk of Dorne's true emotions when they heard wind of her arrival. Besides, hadn't the squire just assured her that Prince Doran was awaiting her presence in the Water Gardens?

Raking her trailing eyes over the alleged Dornish squire's, her emerald green eyes darkened considerably. The squire had a faintly Lannister air about him, from his false courtesies and his wandering glares and secret smirks that were thrown in her direction. And he had a look that was entirely similar to her older brother's: Jamie.

_Of course; Kevan Lannister's eldest son. Lancel. _

With that firm realisation in mind, her eyes narrowed in anger, directed towards the back of the small boy. This was yet another one of Lord Tywin Lannister's infamous schemes and plots; to put distance between her twin brother and herself. And he sent his nephew - her own _cousin_ \- to spy on her for him, all the while manipulating her uncle to heed his every order. _He never gives up, my father; not even for a second_. That knowledge left an acidic after-taste in her mouth.

She refused to acknowledge the small pang in her heart at just the mere memory of her sweet little brother. It hadn't even been a full month since she'd last clamped eyes on his disfigured form and already she craved his presence. Just the thought of his witty remarks and quirky retorts wasn't enough to satisfy her - not when she was headed into the very heart of the snake pit. Besides, she knew that she would need him if she was ever going to survive through her marriage, now seeming so much more real; and much more daunting, now that she was inside her betrothed halls. Perchance she could warm Prince Doran up to the idea of allowing Tyrion to visit.

She almost scoffed at the whimsical want out loud. Even if the ruling Prince of Dorne was the more logical choice over his brother, given the love him and Elia, especially, had shared; there was no way that he would willingly consent to another Lannister presence inside his royal household. And even, by some miracle, Prince Doran allowed Tyrion's arrival then there was nothing to say that his brother wouldn't murder them both where they lay.

No, she concluded with a grim smile, perhaps it would be for the best that her twin didn't walk through the Water Gardens to see her. For both of their sakes.

"Well, my Lady is here now."

Lancel Lannister's smug smirk cut through Tya's inward ruminations like a sharp knife. She resisted the urge to groan her disappointment at her stubborn cousin's biting tone and she instinctively took a step back. _Oh well; it wasn't as if things could have gone any worse..._

The Dornish guard stiffened at the Lannister's tone. A vein twitched in his forehead - dangerously close to popping out, Tya noted with her usual dry humour - as recognition dawned as clear as the new morning on his face.

"And who might this be; a little Lannister squire?" he questioned, honing his spear on her cousin's face. Tya gazed straight into the man's dark eyes with little defiance. While she was used to being hated and loathed by a select few of the members of her House, this was the first time wherein a stranger whom she had never had previous contact with before, abhorred her on reputation alone. She find the resentment buried deep within him for _her_ daunting and somewhat terrifying. She schooled her features carefully and chose not to respond to the man's demands, lest they find themselves in more trouble than they had originally bargained for. "And where did you pick this one up? From Lannisport?" he further interrogated.

Tya noted that, while the Dornish knight kept his expression neutral, his tone decidedly did not. And it seemed that she wasn't the only one who had noticed the tensing of his jaw for several of her guards bristled at the underlying insult that accompanied the man's disrespectful words towards her and her kin. Not, that they were uncalled for - at least, not in the youngest Lannister Lady's mind. They had every right to hate her, given their recent histories; but still, she could not wish that it were not so. Then, maybe, the proposition of a marriage between her and the Red Viper of Dorne would perhaps stand a chance at a happy one.

"That is quite all right, Hotah. Let the Lady through."

Tya let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She cursed herself for the brief action not a moment later in regret. Whatever happened to her remaining strong in the face of such obvious disgust? If she couldn't even maintain her charade in front of one of the Dornish _guards_, then however would she be able to survive a fully-fledged meeting with what was soon to become her new brother once her marriage to Prince Oberyn was finalised? And that wasn't even mentioning her betrothed himself!

She was so busy wrapped up in her own pretentious musings that she had almost forgotten her little cousin until he moved so swiftly in front of her that she almost didn't see where he went until he was staring up at her face. "Well, gentlemen and my fair Lady," he began with a nervous smile being thrown at the 'fair Lady' but the latter was too anxious for her much-dreaded meeting with the Prince of Dorne that she missed the gesture entirely - not that she would have returned it anyhow; not now that she realised who he really was. "I believe that Prince Doran is just down here."

In the blink of an eye, Prince Doran's Dornish guard - or _Hotah, _as he was called - snatched up the Lannister squire by the scruff on his tunic. He peered down coldly into his green eyes and Tya detected a flash of fear on his face. His brilliantly green eyes searched desperately for something, _anything_, he could stare at in a vain attempt to rid himself of the Dornishman's unforgivable gaze. When he spoke, his voice was rough and was laden with more than just an undertone of a threat.

"I do believe that my Prince asked for the _Lady_. Now, unless you're the real Lady Tya," he glanced over at the lady in question and seemed to give a small smirk before staring back down at Lancel, "then I think that means that you're to stay right here."

"Now, you just wait a minute! I believe that, as a member of her guard, I would be gained entrance alongside _my _Lady."

Tya felt her eyelids flutter closed almost involuntarily. _Amory Loch_. She knew that it was too good to be true but she had, damn the naivety that came along with it, that he had finally taken the hint and removed himself from the Dornishmen's many confrontations. But, alas, the gods were cruel and so was he.

"Please, Ser Amory," she begged in a quiet whisper, hesitant at the witnessing faces of the Dornish and conscious of Prince Doran's presence behind those doors. A number of the guards stiffened in what appeared to be shock at the cursed name but she paid them no heed. "I will be all right. I promise. You will not have to deliver my Father my head; at least, not today," she jested vainly.

Before her stubborn guard attempted to portray his growing frustration any further than where he had already gone, she felt a hand press on the small of her back in a slight warning. She gulped nervously though attempted to cover it up with a cough. The Dornish guard's large hand felt as if it engulfed her entire frame as he motioned to follow him down where his Prince was awaiting her presence. She knew it would not be wise to disagree with him - or to pronounce that she had a change of heart and demanded to allow at least _one _of her guards, or even her cousin, to escort her properly - and so she did as she was bid. With great difficulty, might she add.

To distract herself from her growing discomfort, she briefly allowed her mind to wonder over what Tyrion would say, were he here with her now. He would probably chide her for her nerves - _we are Lannisters, sister, hear us roar_ \- and then chastise her for her forward-thinking. He did so like to be surprised, although that feat was a rare occurrence in itself. There wasn't much that could get past Tywin's second son, a matter he prided himself on greatly.

All of a sudden, a rush of heat washed over her, as great and powerful as the sea. Light shone in from all corners of her vision and her eyes clamped shut of their own accord; unwilling to adjust to the overwhelming sensations. From their new position directly outside in the air of Dorne, the sound of children's laughter filled the air that could be heard from miles all around. _The Water Gardens_, her mind supplied helpfully. She had heard the rumours, of course, from way back in Casterly Rock which marvelled at the household of House Martell and she was pleasantly surprised to realise just how truthful those accusations were.

Tya was astonished at how, as her sight was slowly regained, the sunlight touched her skin so delicately, how it licked at the sore wounds she now found herself in possession of after several painfully long hours of sitting on horseback. The playful noise of children frolicking about rang out throughout the whole palace. She instantly wished that she had been given privileges such as this when she was growing up - all she was given _The Rains of Castamere _which tend to make her feel somewhat depressed after a while.

She realised as soon as that faint concept entered her young head how selfish she seemed. Here she was: a Lady born of the richest man in Westeros. She never wanted for nothing for she had everything that she could have possibly ever needed. Except for this: a warm, loving family where the only sounds that could be heard were that of wilful children, rejoicing in the sun. Where the only thing they worried about was how they long they had been out in the sun for. She was struck with the craving - this desperate _need_ she bore - for this warming feeling that had flooded her entire system in its wake. Happiness. She desired happiness.

However, the Lady of House Lannister quickly distinguished this growing flame inside of her while it was still in its infancy. Perhaps if she had been shipped off to Dorne no more than two years ago; before all of the bloodshed had come to pass. But that bloodshed was now the primary cause for the rift the size of a great chasm between their two houses. A gigantic rift that threatened to swallow anything in its path; be it a Lannister or a Martell, it would make no difference. And that begged exactly the question she had been meaning to ask her lord father about: Why had he shipped her off to marry a Prince belonging to the very same House her father had tore apart? What could he possibly stand to gain from this outcome?

Before she could shed some light on the mystery that had been plaguing her since she was so rudely woken up that morning so long ago, a figure clad in typical Dornish fashion sat perched on a wooden brown chair rigidly. The sigil of House Martell was engraved delicately on the head of the chair, just above where the ageing man's own head was sat. She opened her mouth to speak but as she was about to contemplate what she was going to utter to the man she had never met before, he beat her to it with a voice so deep she believed that it was the voice of the gods made flesh.

"That will be all, Areo. You may leave us."

The Dornish guard who had been escorting her to Prince Doran - who, she assumed from the regal stature and the air of grace that surrounded him, was the man sitting before her - bowed low before leaving the area. His dark boots stomped across the stony floor as he strode away purposefully; deserting Tya to the complete and utter mercy of the Prince of Dorne.

Tya was taken aback at the rich sounding quality of the man's tone. His words were carried with a grace of civility; the act alone gave her cause to doubt, considering the numerous amount of guards that took no shame in announcing to the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms their enmity towards her family. And, as a consequence, herself also. She shot the man what she hoped was a small smile but, in reality, it had morphed into something akin to a grimace - she could feel the twisting of her facial features quite clearly. After her failed effort at regaining some of the famous Lannister composure, she instead opted to use a different method to convey what her expressions could not.

"You're Prince Doran, aren't you?"

As soon as the words left her parted lips, she immediately cringed. _So much for the famous Lannister composure _\- she sounded as if she were mentally challenged. In her defence, however, Prince Doran had never left Dorne except to witness his sister's marriage to the late Rhaegar Targaryen and, as such, could not recall his imagery to come to mind. She found herself wondering whether she would be lucky if she was not thrown out on her abruptness alone.

Although, the Prince's reaction had not been as anticipated. A small smile was painted on to his tanned skin as he inclined his head in response to her rather hasty recognition. "I am," he spoke through his rich tone. "And you are the Lady Tya Lannister, daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister and Lady Joanna. I must say that, while I have heard the tales spoken of your beauty, they do you no justice at all, my Lady."

There was a certain falseness in both his voice and his expressions as he addressed the topic of her appearance but, while she mentally made a note of it, she seemed to brush it aside. Besides, anyone speaking of her beauty made her feel decidedly uncomfortable and she blamed her mixed signals on her inability to properly take a compliment.

Her cheeks flushed a little at the remark - despite the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that cried out to her in denial of his words. "You do me a great honour, my Lord," she finally settled on, pleased that her wording had not failed her this time round. "And, might I say that the Water Gardens are certainly a place of great virtue. Truly. I almost wish that I had born a Martell just so I could gaze upon this glorious sight for the rest of my life."

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. "Thank you, my Lady."

Tya wasn't particularly sure what to make of the Prince of Dorne. He held his stature firmly, his posture rigid even as he sat on his chair, leaning against it for stability. He appeared to ooze charm and command respect. Hard lines were engraved almost with a delicate touch on his skin, so smooth that it contrasted greatly with what they had been earned for. While he had never fought in a war before, make no mistake that this man has not bore the scars all the same, although not quite as physically as what she was typically acquainted with; citing both her lord father and her elder brother as examples.

She suddenly felt immeasurable discomfort. The room was suffocating her in all of its intensity. Whatever nerves she displayed previously had now returned to her, tenfold, as she struggled to accumulate a sentence accurately. Eventually, however, she was spared the trouble when the Prince voiced his opinion again.

"I hope that my guards did not cause you too much hassle, my Lady; although I am confident that they did not mean any offence had they done so."

If she wasn't already sure of the man's blatant lying before, then she, most definitely, was now. The words screamed out to her, warning her of its falsehood, and she struggled to reign in her facial features once more. He was testing her, she realised with shock and she hastily attempted to school her features into what she hoped was her most trustworthy face as she shot down the lie the Prince had uttered with one of her own. _I must not show that I know what he is thinking; I must not show that I know what he is thinking; I must not show that I know what is he thinking_.

"Oh, I know, Prince Doran," she replied sweetly. "Your guards would never mean to do me any harm, in that I have the utmost faith. I expect that even _my father_ would appreciate your most kind words in regards to my well-being."

She purposefully enunciated her father's name in a slight warning tone. While she still remained firm in her dislike of threatening others with her father, she knew that in some cases, such as these, it would be wise to take advantage of her heritage. She had to keep faith that the Dornish would not dare mistreat her - not without incurring the wrath of Lord Tywin Lannister. However, sometimes they might need to be reminded of that sole fact.

There was no noticeable reaction concerning the Prince although Tya could feel a shift in the air around them. The chill that she had not felt moments before now bit harshly into her skin as the sun retreated behind its cloudy defences. She managed to resist the urge to shiver, but only just. She had to remains strong, she reminded herself, or else...

"I believe it would please you, Lady Tya," the change in greeting for her that he used not long before was not lost on her, "if you would be escorted into your chambers. The journey to Dorne has taken its toll on you, I fear, and I would rest easier knowing that you were well-looked after. _Especially while under my roof_. Areo!" he called.

There was the briefest of pauses before the steady _clonk_ of the Dornish guard's boots resonated throughout the floors. The faithful guard bowed to his Prince, ignoring the Lannister Lady for the time being.

"Please escort Lady Tya to her private chambers. I trust you know where they are."

For one mad, fleeting moment Tya wondered whether he meant the cells, judging by his sudden change in attitude.

"I do, my Prince." Areo directed his attention towards Tya then, his dark eyes boring into hers as he dissected her inward emotions with a keen eye; wanting to know what she had done to warrant this unruly change in his Prince before nodding once, rather briskly. "Come with me, Lady Tya." He did not wait for her response, taking off before his lips had uttered the last of his sentence.

"Yes, good Ser. I'm right behind you."

* * *

Prince Doran rubbed a weary hand down the side of his face with abandon. The day had been almost too chaotic for his fragile mind to bear and he was counting down the hours when he could retire for the evening. He felt he was in desperate need for sleep; _fast_.

When he had first received wind of this unexpected betrothal between his remaining sibling and the daughter of the man who had ordered the murder of his other, he was enraged. He refused to step out from his private chambers and instead huddled inside them in retreat. He was in great need for thinking and he could not properly do that, not when he was surrounded by one too many happy, naive faces. Not when they reminded him so much of his niece's and nephew's.

_All dead_.

He had refused to allow any one entrance, save for one man: his brother. His last, living sibling that was being forced to abandon his paramour who had granted him so much happiness and love - and was even expecting, from last he'd heard, of carrying his brother's child. He was made to leave behind his sister, not even being granted leave to properly mourn for her before being captured by the Lannisters and thrown into a betrothal that he did not want and, ultimately, would never escape. At least, not while staying alive.

Oberyn had confronted him in his bedchamber, demanding why he was being married to _Tya Lannister_ \- the one woman in the world whom he could not, nor never would, marry. He came anticipating some kind of refusal or rebuke, saying that he could deny Tywin Lannister the right but only to find that his own brother had betrayed him and accepted Lord Tywin's proposal or marriage.

_How could you, brother? How could you do this to me? To Elia? How could you do this to yourself?_

Prince Doran could still recall his brother's betrayed expression, his eye glistening for tears he would not shed for his dead sister and her children, and Doran's own heart had nearly stopped at the tragic sadness that lingered behind his snake-like expressions.

He had told his brother that he had no choice, that, were it up to him, he would see this _Tya Lannister_ rot in all Seven Hells if the decision were up to him - in honour of Elia and her family. But, untimely, the choice had not been up to him. It was up to Tywin Lannister, as it always was. And if Doran did not offer up his support in this marriage, then Tywin Lannister would wage war upon Dorne and both his brother and children would be put to the sword as well.

It had taken some convincing, of course, to make Oberyn fully comprehend the full weight of his decision, but in the end, his brother had seen his side of events and knew that it was something that was out of his hands. To be perfectly honest, however, the ruling Prince of Dorne wasn't sure that his brother's defeated _yes_ made him feel better or worse.

"You can step out from beneath the shadows, brother. I assure you; she's long gone."

From behind where he was perched on his chair, Prince Oberyn stepped forward, the light hitting his face almost instantly, proving his guilt. "How could you tell I was behind there?" he questioned quietly, still careful so that his future wife would not hear this private conversation between the two Martell brothers. "I made sure I was well secured."

Doran barked a laugh, almost harshly. "I can always tell when you're right behind me, brother? Or have you forgotten already?"

His question was met with silence. Both Princes stared straight ahead, far out into the horizon, their dark eyes focusing on nothing but holding everything carefully protected within them.

"What did you make of her?"

His brother paused in contemplation of the question. "Weak," he finally settled on, his accent rough as he tested the word on his tongue. "She was weak. And boring. Did you see that threat she tried to throw you? When she mentioned her father?"

Doran hummed before replying, "Yes, I did. A vain attempt, on her part. She must know that we can not risk her being harmed; not while she remains in our custody."

"Yes, I know."

Oberyn's bitter statement left a sour taste in the taste, rotting it and turning it as dark as the light up above as the sun disappeared entirely behind the clouds.

"We _can not_ allow her to be harmed, Oberyn," Doran said urgently, turning around as fully as he can to look upon his brother in the eyes, imploring him to understand. "Do you understand me? Not if we want to protect the children."

His brother sighed, clearly aggravated, as he shielded his face from Doran's view. Prince Doran himself sighed, though this time with more apprehension as he stared at the tense muscles already forming beneath the man's yellow clothing. He waited a moment for his anger to cool down and - when it became apparent that it would not - he conceded with a heavy sigh, "You are to marry tomorrow, brother."

As he had expected, Oberyn's entire form stiffened in what seemed to be shock before he coiled it back into himself in anger. "And you have only now told me of this?"

"Oberyn; you cannot evade this. Come tomorrow, you must marry. Or else I fear that she will incur the wrath of Tywin Lannister's army down upon us in one fell swoop."

The man gave an angry snort. "And you believe that us marrying a day latter would bring upon this army?"

"_Oberyn_," he muttered tersely, not one for playing games. "You must do this. You promised me."

Oberyn swiftly turned to face down his brother with his eyes ablaze as they matched Doran's own. "Do not speak to me of promises. You, of all people." He did not wait for his brother's response as he headed over to the doors with long, meaningful strides. "And brother," he called over his shoulder, "do not fear. I will do my duty." His voice dropped to that of a quiet whisper that spoke of vengeance and dark deeds. "_Whatever the consequence._"


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I just wanted to start off by saying thank you to all of those who have read and enjoyed this story and who have left me some reviews. I cannot express my gratitude in words. Seriously, thank you.**

**I am deeply sorry for neglecting to update this story in over a whole month! I am really, truly sorry and I sincerely hope that this chapter makes up for my lack of an update in such a long period of time.**

**Oh, and thank you so much for the people who have pointed out that the Water Gardens isn't actually in Sunspear. Whoops. I looked it up and found out that it was actually three leagues west of Sunspear so thank you to those who have pointed it out to me!**

**Also, because of a blip in the timelines, I just want to announce that I am bringing Tya and Tyrion's births up by two years so there is only two years difference from them to Jamie and Cersei, going by the ages they give us on the show. Just because I feel it is more easier to stomach, having Tya being aged 17 and Oberyn 26 rather than Tya being 15. Thank you Jofrench22 for pointing this out to me! :)**

**The wedding between Tya and Oberyn is going to take place in the same year as Cersei's and Robert's, meaning that the year is going to be early 284.**

**A couple of you have mentioned about Jamie's and Tya's relationship and I just want to iterate that everything that has been mentioned about their sibling relationship is all in Tya's own thoughts and feelings. Tya does not trust Jamie, for reasons that will be revealed later on, and, as a result, does not like him. And Jamie has always struck me as somebody who hordes his personal feelings and views and puts on a cocky front to hide his thoughts and so Tya does not react well to him because of this. She is also overly protective of her twin and does not want somebody so close to Cersei - whom she views as dangerous - to potentially harm him on Cersei's whims. But these are all from Tya's viewpoint and not from Jamie's who may have a different perspective on their relationship that we may find out in later chapters.**

**Thank you all to the people who have informed me of these things, I would honestly be stuck without you guys and I am so pleased with the constructive criticism and listening to people's own opinions about this story; it's part of the reason I keep writing! :) So thank you all and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!**

* * *

Tya Lannister was getting married today. The great beauty of House Lannister - behind Cersei, of course - was finally getting wed to the Red Viper of Dorne; someone whom she had never clamped a pair of brilliantly green beady eyes on but knew that the rumours of his vast hatred for anything ending in _Lannister _was most definitely _not _an over-exaggeration.

She tried very hard to ignore the way the hairs on the nape of her neck rose up instinctively at the thought of this man with an animosity that could quell even the fiercest storm - and she denied the way her heart stopped altogether as ice replaced the warmth of her blood flooding in her veins at just the mental reminder of what would be occurring shortly after the empty promises their vows detailed.

_That would be how it is done, _the thought, chilling though it might be, settled in her mind, _tonight; in bed. Perhaps a few, happy memories of stealing a Lannister's maidenhead without mercy before slitting my throat and sending my remaining organs to my father. One finger at a time. _

Green eyes widened in disbelief at the notion and she quickly slammed the palm of her hand down on her mouth, with all the force her mind imagined the prince would thrust upon her in the throes of her deathbed.

_They wouldn't. They - they couldn't. No; they wouldn't dare. _

Yet no matter how hard she tried to deny the accusations her head supplied decidedly _unhelpfully, _her mind fought back with even more disturbing visions that only served to torment her already-frightened self to the point where she almost emptied whatever was left of the contents of her stomach atop the soft wooden flooring of her private chambers. Even though, after whatever hells both the Martells and the gods put her through for the duration of the day, tonight these beautiful and somewhat peaceful chambers won't be hers to claim anymore.

That thought caused her to become somewhat sentimental towards something her sweet sister would consider as mundane as her _room_. She was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, by all the gods; Cersei would sneer at her - not some tavern wench that shed tears at the sight luxury. However, she could not help herself. Her room was one of the rare few gifts in her life that actually _meant _something to her; something that tore at her vulnerable heartstrings and danced along the invisible chords of her emotions to any tune it wanted to play. And she couldn't just...willing trade it as if it meant nothing to her - no, as if it meant _less_ than nothing to her. She couldn't do that.

It was after she had been subjected to one of the most dreaded and awkward conversations of her entire young life with the current ruling Prince of Dorne when she had first clamped eyes on the glorious and magnificence that was the Water Gardens - which she has now, after several painstakingly humiliating moments in the presence of the Dornish prince himself, realised that it was not actually situated in Sunspear but rather shadowed over the city several leagues to the west. She had her band of Lannister soldiers accompanying her, as she recalled, and they all had been requested by a fair few of angry Dornish guards to be shown directly to their own quarters.

Tya recollected that she had harboured no doubt about it in her head that Ser Amory Lorch would be given the worst of all the rooms the Dornish had left to spare; she wouldn't be at all surprised if the Dornish had purposefully destroyed his designated chamber beyond all recognition whilst they were still on their way to Dorne. As if her imagination had come to life, the Lannister soldier in question had complained very loudly the following morning about his less-than-satisfactory private chambers so much so that Tya had actually ordered the man to cease his infernal moaning or else he would find himself shortly losing the tongue that gave him the power of speech.

Of course, her green eyes had promptly widened at the audacity of her remark but strangely she could not find it within herself to be properly ashamed of the implications of her words. She had inwardly blamed the Dornish and their growing grudges concerning her lord father's men for rubbing their own private agenda off on her.

Although, when she had finally arrived at her own private chambers, she quickly found that her previous woes of a room as disastrous as the one bestowed upon Ser Amory Lorch dissipated almost as quickly as the notion had first arrived in her golden head.

Beautifully intricate designs were weaved onto - and into, as she later found out - her bedspread. Dozens upon dozens of candles were lined up neatly alongside her bedchamber. Tya, at first, was struck with the beautiful image that was presented to her and, against her better judgement, she felt tiny pricking sensations building behind her emerald eyes as tears filled them. No one had ever gifted her with anything so extraordinary like this in her entire life; not even back in the Lannister domain. _Cersei was always the favourite. _And so to have something that could be called uniquely hers, constructed solely for _her _own benefit tugged at the proverbial heartstrings. She momentarily forgot all about the strife between the Lannisters and the Martells. She forgot about her own family and her impending marriage to one of Dorne's most provocative princes in history. She forgot about almost everything save for this one, glorious moment.

...And then the more rational half of Tya's mind kicked back into action. The pure, unaltered emotion that had been bubbling away beneath the surface had disappeared so quick it was a struggle to even recall her ever having experienced it. Her facial features froze up on the half-smile that had begun to form on her lips and instead she twisted it back into what she hoped was the stereotypical Lannister expression: a blank face with the beginnings of an evil, vindictive smirk lifting up the corner of her mouth ever so slightly.

_I knew this was a trick_ she thought angrily. _This has the beginnings of murder all over it. _The beautiful room cloaked in Lannister red and gold; the somewhat cordial conversation with Prince Doran earlier on and the sudden lack of her betrothed being thrust upon her to create any awkward moments and probably, knowing the man in question and his infamous reputation and subsequent nickname, the absence of any dire, life-threatening scenarios seemed a bit too suspicious in the young Lannister maid's mind. If she were not in Dorne and, as such, under the 'protection' of Prince Doran, then she would have easily assumed that her father had been pulling the strings laced with double meanings and hidden threats behind this love-match.

Until she remembered that it was _House Martell_ who governed Dorne and all the land within it; and they had most certainly not involved themselves in any possible dealings with her father about her hand in marriage. Nor would they succumb to Lord Tywin's threats - if anything it would only serve to entice them in another war. Another rebellion.

And her family had never done anything as remotely kind or thoughtful as this to her before and if her own _family_ would not - the richest family in the Seven Kingdoms, might she add - then why by all the gods would this stranger family do it for her? That, if nothing else, proved that there was something sinister at play here. And she was resolute to find out what the hidden plot was.

So if the niceties gifted towards the fair Lannister lady weren't meant to please her father; nor were they to simple pleasantries exchanged in return for the pleasure of her company - which she was fairly certain would have been the case were her name not _Lannister_ \- then that only left one other thing that they could possibly mean to entice her.

Yes, she could almost picture the scene now through glazed eyes. She would be "gifted" the most richest and fanciful quarters the Water Gardens could prepare - she believed that, were she not also being forced to share a room with Dorne's royalty then she would have been given a room as untoward as Ser Amory Lorch had that week ago - to entice her; make her drop her guard even for the _slightest moment..._and then they would put a knife to her throat. If she dared close her eyes even for a moment she fancied she could _feel_ the ice cool metal of the blade dangling precariously at the hollow of her throat.

Tya visibly shuddered as she stood in front of her full-framed mirror, ruminating the imminent possibilities of her murder. What could she possibly do to keep her heart pumping just a little while longer, despite all the outside opponents that desired for the exact opposite to occur? How could she kill out that plan she detailed so splendidly while it was still in its infancy? Because, judging by the appaling lack of evidence she had garnered during her rather careful exploitations of House Martell's inward secrets, her previous plan wasn't living up to all it had promised to be. _What then? _What else could she do?

Her green eyes briefly travelled to the region over by the window, where a hundred foot drop greeted her weary vision - certainly high enough for a single _splat_ to silence a person's voice forever.

Although, even as a darker plot hatched away in her mind, ensnaring her with the wonderful _deviousness_ of its hidden nature, she cast the idea aside. She was too soft-hearted to even entertain the _thought_ of murdering another person; no matter their own not-so-private agendas against her - and their own secret schemes to remove her head from her shoulders, one blonde hair strand at a time. There was just no way she would be able to stomach enough ammunition that would warrant her mental capacity to carry out a deed such as the one she was currently contemplating. Tya let out an aggravated sigh with a bitter taste that betrayed her own self-loathing for her weak nature. And there was no possible way she would willingly jump out the tall window herself, no matter how helpless her situation was or how desperate she had become - despite the numerous songs they would sing back at Casterly Rock for the young Lannister maiden with the golden hair. She would never commit suicide.

So that left only one viable option left for her to do. She walked calmly over to where her tall and empowering wedding dress lay atop her bed, all folded neatly as a result of her constant fidgeting due to her anxiety of her wedding. Lifting one dainty hand, she carefully withdrew the fabric, letting its weight rest on her palm like so, before she moved back over to her mirror and placed the dress just in front of her, to bear witness to how she would look a few hours from now.

A knock at the door resonated through out Tya's inward musings, snapping her back into the here and now. Her body jumped a foot in the air of its own accord and she instinctively reached into the sleeve of her carefully embroidered dress to finger the small pin that was currently resting against her flesh, dropping the wedding dress as if it had suddenly burst into flames where it lay a heap of mess on the floor. It was one of Tyrion's own inventions; something to be sure to defend herself with by momentarily startling whatever attacker her dwarf twin envisioned when he first suggested her small weapon - and, because of its small stature and easily camouflaged state inside her white dress that belied the colour of freshly fallen snow, it wasn't easily detectable as one might expect. To be perfectly blunt: it was perfect.

"Come in."

A young, beautifully tanned Dornish handmaiden sauntered in to her room, her hips sashaying as if in time to an invisible tune that only she was privy too. Tya briefly felt a small twinge of envy settle menacingly in her gut at the carefree manner in which the girl displayed in her every movement. The young Lannister maiden wondered whether this was what drove her elder sister to berate and humiliate her lesser - in this moment, Tya felt the same urge to do exactly that. To feel as if she had some semblance of power over the girl - despite the fact that both of them knew that it wasn't the case.

The handmaiden wasn't about to be wed to somebody nine years her senior; somebody whom had a rather _distinguishable _hatred against her family; and the handmaiden was most definitely not about to be wed to somebody who would slit her throat or slip a small concoction of poison in her wine the moment her back was turned.

_No_, Tya concluded as she thoughtfully eyed the female through analytical eyes, _her life was much more simpler than all that. _And that was the basis of her animosity.

The Dornish maid smiled a brilliantly free smile as if to further emphasise that point.

"I am so sorry to bother you, Lady Tya," she began in a voice that matched her entire complexion, Tya noted with an almost visible amount of jealously, "but Prince Doran has instructed me to prepare you for your bath and help you change in to your wedding dress."

"My...bath?" Tya questioned with an almost high pitch quality to her tone. Ever since she was a small girl, she had always detested the idea of handmaidens doting on her every second - even more so when they were ordered to help her bathe. There was something so intimate about that notion that Tya had self-consciously drew away from allowing others to bathe her and preferring instead to perform the role itself.

However, here she could not ever so politely decline the royal offer; not when she was so determined to prove to the world, and especially her fellow Lannister family, that she roar just as loudly as the rest of them. And she almost definitely could not reject the escort as she was already on shaky ground with the Martells of Dorne and she feared that even the slightest insult towards them would put her at even more risk than she already was.

So, instead, Tya managed to brave a small smile that portrayed none of the self-concious fear at someone other than herself staring at her naked form - despite the fact that, after tonight, the Dornish handmaiden wouldn't have been the only one to see her bare and exposed self on display - and informed the young girl that she would be delighted for her company and guidance.

* * *

After several tantalizingly long and painful hours in the _pleasurable _company of her new Dornish handmaiden - no, sorry, in _Dayla's_ wonderfully brilliant presence - Tya was just about ready to commit all-out murder just so the young seven-and-ten Lannister lady could retain even the slightest notion of her sanity.

But..._Dayla_ would just not keep quiet; about anything. The fair Dornish handmaiden was keen, it appeared to Tya, to inform her of how _she _would feel were she about to become a princess herself. And, while Tya finally admitted to herself that even she entertained such ludicrous fantasies about becoming a royal princess and being wed to, arguably, the most handsomest Targaryen who ever lived - along with her sweet sister, of course - she most definitely could not excuse the utterances that followed from the handmaiden's very own mouth concerning the infamous Red Viper of Dorne and Tya herself. She was completely and utterly scarred for the rest of her life after catching the hidden innuendos the handmaiden threw her way along with little winks as she implied what they two would be getting up to later that evening.

As if Tya needed any more horrifically annoying reminders to punctuate that fact right now. Tya had enough to deal with already; what with making sure _not_ to trip over her long-sleeved, expensive, cream-coloured wedding dress complete with a large flowing train that somehow never failed to ensnare whatever little trinkets and leftover dust mites were being harboured on the cold wooden flooring.

When Dayla had first presented the dress to the golden-haired lady, Tya had immediately fallen in love with it. The beautiful embroidery sewn on to it made her heart swoon and eyes twinkle in barely-concealed delight. It was the most exquisite thing she had ever before witnessed and could hardly comprehend the fact that it was all for her sake. When Dayla managed to squeeze her slightly petite frame into the elegant and fine article of clothing, she was absolutely gobsmacked - and, inwardly, almost giddy with glee - to find that she fit into it like a glove.

Her new Dornish handmaiden forced her to perform a small twirl and smile in front of her full-figure mirror as appropriate practice for all the "pomp and ceremony" - as she put it - the upcoming Princess of Dorne would have to endure. Tya groaned at first at the daunting prospect but then immediately warmed up to the idea as she gazed at her reflection the mirror ever so delicately provided for her.

The woman staring back at her was neither weak nor particularly strong. Neither Martell nor Lannister. She belonged to no man; to no house. The woman staring back at her was confident; sure of herself; smart. She knew without a doubt that she would survive whatever was thrown at her and wouldn't be so easily swayed by beautiful finery though she desired it all the same. No, the woman staring back at her - green eyes pouring into emerald pools - was a survivor. Loyal to none but herself.

And she was all Tya could ever dream to become.

The next unfortunate torture she was forced to suffer at the merciless hands of her rather outlandish handmaiden was her hair. Now, normally this would be the one thing Tya would look forward to. She loved the way her golden locks were transformed as the set of hands above her worked their magic on her infamous Lannister hair. It was almost as if it were some type of art form, she once mused.

However, Dayla was neither gentle nor particularly creative, as she would later find out, when it came to styling her hair. Her young Dornish hands painfully pulled at her hair strands, pinching her scalp with ever sharp tug. Tya was a hair's breadth away from jumping down the handmaiden's throat when she finally declared her work was complete.

When Tya, relieved at finally regaining control over her abused scalp, waddled over in her wedding dress to the mirror, Dayla halted her slow movements with the guarantee that "it'll ruin the surprise if you see it now". The Lannister lady narrowed her eyes dangerously low at the command the other woman had given her, but otherwise obeyed.

After all had been said and done, a young squire had knocked at the door, requesting Tya's presence for the beginning of the ceremony. She unconsciously shot the handmaiden a terrified look to which the latter simply gave what she hoped was an encouraging grin and beckoned the lady out into the hall where she would then wait for her escort. The squire left shortly after, leaving the would-be princess alone out in the corridor, to inform her 'escort' that she was prepared and ready to go.

Before Tya could delve any deeper into the land of conspiracy theories involving her and Martells of Dorne, she was wrenched cruelly from her thoughts by the feeling of a warm hand pressing into the small of her back. She flinched instinctively and whirled around, her eyes wide with fear of the unknown.

Grass green orbs met chocolate brown. _Prince Doran_. She forced herself to halt the growing sigh from within her body as her tense frame relaxed slightly at the presence of a familiar face.

Prince Doran appeared to her exactly as he did when he first conversed with her. The hard lines inscribed on his very features combined with the heavy drooping of his eyelids spoke of the stress she guessed he felt as he mentally prepared himself to suffer the same indescribable feeling of losing another one of his siblings to the Lannisters. Although they both weren't sure who would be the first to fall in this scenario.

"Prince Doran," Tya spoke with a pleasant undertone with the barest hint of a smile upturning the corners of her mouth, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

The man noticeably frowned with disdain, she realised. "Did your handmaiden not inform you?"

"Inform me about what?" She questioned with a slight arch of her eyebrow.

His face was unreadable even after she had dissected him with her strong scrutinizing."Your lord father isn't able to attend the wedding, my lady. I will be the one to give you away."


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, finally I managed to finish this chapter. The wedding of Oberyn and Tya will now commence. I hope you all enjoy it and I am sincerely grateful for all of your feedback. They mean a lot to me; truly.**

* * *

Shock. That was the first thing that registered in Tya's panic-ridden mind. The pleasant smile that had plastered its way on to her lips froze there; as if it had suddenly been encased in ice for the remainder of the evening. Her eyes glistened dangerously for a second before smoothing back out into a carefree state of neutrality.

Tya could not _begin_ to comprehend the audacity her father must have possessed as he sent what must have been little more than a note, knowing Lord Tywin it probably would have been hard-pressed to even called a _note_, declaring his absence over _her_ wedding. He probably didn't even offer his honourable reasons for his missed presence; he just left it without any pitiful excuses. It was that thought that snapped Tya out of her momentary pause and filled her with unimaginable rage and hostility.

_He knew how worried about this wedding I was _she fumed with a silent flame. _The only thing that has kept me going the past few days I've been here was the knowledge that he would be here to give me away and leave me with a few 'duties' I would have to perform, all in the Lannister good name. And yet...yet he couldn't even offer me even the slightest vestiges of hope._

However, as startling as that new revelation was for the young Lannister, it wasn't exactly a surprise. She knew - well, she and her fellow siblings both - that their lord father wasn't particularly the kindest nor the warmest man in the Seven Kingdoms. So perhaps that was why the notion of their father _not _arriving in Dorne for the sake of her new marriage - or at all, really - wasn't as much of a shock as her mind had initially played it out to be. And besides, her wedding was hardly being portrayed as fanciful or popular. From what she could gather from the outside whispers of discord amongst the smallfolk, it was guarded as if it were a best-kept secret. Gods above, it certainly wasn't about to be as notorious as her sweet sister's was rumoured to become.

_Cersei_.

Tya could feel her barely-controlled anger begin to spike once again just at the mere mention of her elder. No, Tya was willing to bet that their father would be _honoured _to receive a wedding invitation to the royal marriage - and her sister's subsequent coronation. But that was always the way with the Lannister's of Casterly Rock, the unspoken rule - it was always, without a doubt, without any second thoughts, Cersei over her. _Always. _Without fail.

And, besides, if Lord Tywin even _considered _crossing over into the region of Dorne - and the snake pit; _mustn't_ forget about the snake pit - he would be publicly hung, drawn and quartered and then, when it was all over and done, his dead and decaying body would be chucked into the rivers of Dorne where it would then become food for all the little fishes buried deep down under.

She soon started to regret picturing that event in _great detail_ when her face started to transform into a horrid green colour. She clamped a dainty gloved hand over her mouth to halt the steady flow of bile she could picture travelling up her stomach to expose its contents to the world.

"Are you all right there, Lady Tya?" A calm steady voice broke out amongst her horrific visual imagery.

She glanced down on reflex, her eyes meeting those of the elder Prince of Dorne situated in his customary wheelchair. _I never noticed that until now_. It seemed very probable indeed that the rumours of Prince Doran's unfortunate illness were, in fact, true. She somehow managed to remove her hand from her ashen face - even with the copious amount of make-up her new handmaiden had smothered across her face with abandon - where it dangled uselessly at her side, every once in a while brushing up against the silk-thread fabric of her wedding dress.

A small, somewhat strained, contemplative smile faked its way to adorn her facial features before she responded to the man's earlier question in a voice that belied the shaky tone in which it was delivered in.

"Forgive me, Prince Doran, for my temporary lack of response. I was only thinking of my lord father."

A sympathetic look flashed across the Dornish prince's face. It was so quick that if she had blinked it would have passed her by without a second's notice; but she had chanced upon the pitying expression that had momentarily graced his ageing features before it was pushed aside. And it did nothing short of making the Lannister lady wish to punch it out of his system forever more. She had never dealt well with _pity_.

"I am sorry to have been the one to inform you of this...slight change of plans," he phrased delicately, unsure as to how to word it to the most influential man in Westeros' daughter.

Tya's lip, which had unconsciously curled at the notion of his pity, quivered slightly of its own accord and she hated herself for allowing her barriers to fall just far enough for even the barest ghost of raw emotion to seep its way past her carefully constructed charade.

But...it was her _wedding day. _Seven hells, she was getting married..._today_; and she wasn't a fool, she knew that, in the grand scheme of things, she equated less to her father than his precious "family name". She got that, she knew that - it wasn't about _her_ so much as it was about her status as a _Lannister, _although...she had naively, foolishly cherished the sentimentality behind him being there for her, as moral support, or her own personal sponsor or whatever the hell he wanted to name it as, on the day she was finally being thrown head-first into the snake pit. It was all she wanted. But now, as she stood there, repressing the old burst of emotion to rush to the surface, she wondered whether she had set her standards too high for him to fulfil.

"Oh. Yes, I understand," she responded with a tense expression plastered across her caked face. She cleared her throat, once, as she mentally recalled the courage to dare mention whether the prince, whose sister was murdered by the Lannister family, knew of Lord Tywin's whereabouts or had inquired about his good health.

The prince's expression was unreadable save for the sympathetic glint in his dark eyes. "Yes, I do."

"And?"

"And, I believe he is currently attending the royal wedding between Lord Robert Baratheon and your elder, Lady Cersei." In her momentary shock, she failed to notice the way the Dornishman purposefully discredited Robert's appropriate title following his own very recent coronation.

All of a sudden, all of the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. All she could manage to produce was a breathy "_oh_" before she felt herself grow a little faint as white hot anger blurred her vision and quickly assaulted her entire being, leaving nothing in its wake save for the hollow emptiness that engulfed her whenever she allowed for the opportunity to arise.

"I am sorry for this inconvenience, my lady."

She hardly registered the raw feeing she had exerted into that one sentence as she numbly retorted with an uncharacteristic, "Yeah. Yeah, me too." Was it too much to hope for that her father would have been there to see her off? Tya snorted mentally; _apparently, it was_.

As her green orbs caught sight of the man's pity returning full-force, she mentally screamed at herself to maintain the same conniving, polite-but-detached famous Lannister walls before this brief exchange of emotions could be used against her. A pleasant expression replaced the look of despair that had previously made itself home on her face, she noted with disdain.

It appeared that Prince Doran managed to take the not-so-subtle hint as he coughed lightly in a vain attempt to dispel the strange, lingering emotions that had nearly suffocated them both with their intensity. He handed her her required Lannister cloak, complete with the infamous golden lion that was sewn beautifully on to the bright red colouring of her House, and she slipped it on quickly. When all was said and done, he proffered his arm, bound to the wheelchair as it was, and she - with no other noticeable escape route in sight - took it, having to hunch her back over to compensate for their vast height differences due to his rather demanding illness.

Tya was under the impression that this was all planned, to humiliate her as soon as she was forced to hunch her back at a very _odd _angle - and that belief was only intensified when the prince murmured, "Shall we?"

However, instead of calling him out on it, she gave a slight smile in return and paced over to the great grand wooden doors that sealed her fate.

"We shall."

_Hear me roar, Martell._

* * *

Rows upon rows of Dornishmen, women and children were all lined up, standing with their straight backs proudly - a few of them even giggled in her presence when they thought she wasn't looking, and a few of the guards openly chuckled without mirth when she _was_ looking.

She knew how she must look like to them: hunched back, huddled over their liege prince as if she were a captive criminal rather than a noblewoman of high birth. And she still had no clue as to what transpired between Dayla and her fair, golden locks.

Of course, she had no foreseeable mirror to check what she properly looked like and could only hope and pray that her outward exterior did not portray her too badly, but, inwardly, she knew that, were the laughs and smirks anything to go by, it would be more probable that her appearance badly reflected her on a much more serious charge.

The unexpected décor of this untouched, private grand sept was something that Tya found she was born to admire. The beautiful wooden scenery playing out before her was nothing short of intimate. Little paintings and portraits were painted into the wall boards in such excruciating detail and with such delicate precision that left her pondering greatly who could have created such a masterpiece.

The sigil of House Martell - the sigil of her soon-to-be house, she recalled numbly - was decorated proudly at the very heart of the room, at the very centre of her vision. But she was too preoccupied with outstanding quality - so much more vivid than anything she had ever chanced across at King's Landing or at Casterly Rock - that she failed to pay the sigil any heed.

_I should just do away Prince Oberyn and instead wed this exquisite sept. Gods know that I will ultimately prefer the beauty of this room to the handsome contours of my betrothed._

But, she supposed that none of that mattered. Not in the grand scheme of things, at least. There were a thousand different opportunities the Martells possessed that could have ended with her broken and battered body being dumped around somewhere with abandon; the life all but snuffed out of her without a second thought contrary to the result. It wasn't as if there was anybody here to stick up for anyway - not a soul. Save for her band of guards that hadn't been granted an invitation to her wedding and had instead received an invitation to leave Dorne upon penalty of death upon their next arrival, or her vain and more than slightly naive cousin, Lancel - who also wasn't permitted to enter the sept on this _very special day_, it would appear.

She had almost forgotten about a member of her own blood's presence amidst the sunny abode that made up the Water Gardens. The little spy that was too busy reporting the - admittedly, really rather boring, to be perfectly honest - wanderings and little informants that made up her daily routine to her corrupt, power-starved tyrant of a father. She bitterly reminisced as her short legs carried her, swaying slightly due to the arching over what was soon to be her new brother at the Dornish prince's own urging, whether Lancel had actually informed her lord father accurately about the small, insignificant little slight that it _was her wedding day today_.

Tya mused whether or not he knew - and, if he did, whether he even cared enough to write her a little offering his congratulations, however insincere they might be.

Were she alone, she would have laughed as harshly and as bitterly as the Dornish were surrounding her in their thick animosity. _No; I think not. _She knew her father - Lord Tywin Lannister wouldn't know what sentiment was if it stabbed him half a hundred thrusts in his stone cold heart. _If he even has one, that is._

The whole room grew as silent as a crypt - save for the occasional snicker at her expense - as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other, whilst still tipping precariously over to her right, huddling over Prince Doran in a way that would have been considered almost intimate were it not for the detail that she was a lioness and he the red hot sun. Plus, the comical prejudiced nature in which it was done in didn't help matters.

_Huh. Maybe it's true. Maybe the lion really does bow down to the sun in this instance. _

And then she saw him.

The passing crowd parted just as she neared the far end of the hall, only granting her just the tiniest glimpse of her soon-to-be husband, standing just slightly in front of the septon. But that was more than enough.

From just that one small peep at her betrothed, she would later come to recall was the most vivid and detailed glance at her husband with excellent clarity - she could make out the strong, hard contours of his back and lean, broad shoulders. A bright yellow jacket, emblazoned with the sigil sun of House Martell, thrown on top of his customary tunic was all that stood between her and his strong muscles. Yet another reminder of who she would be dealing with, come later this evening, Tya realised with dread.

His dark orbs seemed burned into her memory. The sharp, analytical gaze that accompanied their every movement gave her considerable pause enough for her palms to grow sweaty and her pulse to quicken with haste. It wasn't just the endless depths of his shadowy orbs - so much more so than those of his elder brother - that piqued her fear and caused an abnormal rhythm to overtake her beating heart. No, it was the intensity of them, concealed so well that she had, at first glance, dismissed it as simple boredom. Upon closer inspection, however, she began to realise that it wasn't empty boredom that was occupying them: it was rage. Hard, unforgivable rage.

All the wind promptly exited through the small opening her gaping mouth provided, her hear pounding heavily against her eardrums as the gap between them kept shrinking; and shrinking; _and shrinking_.

She hadn't even made her wandering eyes draw over the "gorgeous" qualities of her betrothed - the anger shared equally between his eyes stopped her own green ones dead in their tracks, her gaze now resting meekly amongst the recently polished wooden flooring. Tya had no idea how interesting a nail was when it was embedded along the dark panels of wood.

A small jab to her exposed side caused her head to swivel around to that of her new liege prince. Doran's eyes retained none of the sympathetic pity they had earlier. And for that small kindness she was grateful. If she was forced to endure another bout of pity a moment like this, with her vulnerability exposed for the whole of Dorne to bear witness to, she wasn't so sure she would have been able to haul her aching body, at least on her right side that is, another inch. Although, she wasn't sure her feet would comply to her inward demands had she issued them, judging by the way they kept pushing through her hazy emotions like their own personal mantra was anything to go by.

Her bright, alluring emerald green eyes glittered as they flashed down at the prince. His own seemed to be almost encouraging, daring her - but not to do anything untoward that would suffice only to tarnish her name even further into the sandy planes of Dorne. No, they appeared to be telling her; no, _demanding_ her to stand up a little straighter, knock her chin up just that little bit higher and keep her eyes locked firmly onto her betrothed's, not letting the smallfolk of Dorne be privy to her own personal emotions.

_I am a lioness of Casterly Rock with all the gold and riches I could only have dreamt up in my wildest dreams. My father is Lord Tywin Lannister; the most influential man in the Seven Kingdoms. And I, Lady Tya of House Lannister, can do this._

She chanced a quick look back to the eyes of the man who was replacing the great and almighty Tywin Lannister as the one who would give her away on this special day; her wedding day.

_No. What are the words of House Martell? 'Unbowed, unbent, unbroken'._

And the lady belonging to one of the few Great Houses in Westeros, the young, fair noblewomen from the Westerlands poised her back, lifted her eyes to broaden her line of sight, regained some mischievous twinkle in her step and smiled.

* * *

The long walk down the aisle came to a swift halt when they finally breached the altar. Tya felt the familiar body beside her withdraw his limb that had somehow become entwined with her own. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her nerves - which she had frantically desired had subsided once she had reclaimed her dignity - returned full-force, drowning her in them without mercy.

Slowly, _ever so slowly_, and with great difficulty, Tya hesitantly placed one foot in front of the other, exactly how she'd performed the small action mere moments ago, and locked eyes with Prince Oberyn Martell of House Martell along the way.

Her earlier suggestion that the small sneak peek at her long-dreaded betrothed was the most clear and extraordinary human being she had ever happened upon in all her short years of life, dissipated in favour of the picture Oberyn Martell was busy painting for her right in front of her very eyes.

The man's face was as handsome as the rumours foretold, the strength and leanness that she could only guess occupied his daily routine was as clear as the sun on her face when she awoke in the hottest country in Westeros every morning, written all over his face. When she paused her slow, calm, steady pace to stare curiously at his warrior's face, she could easily spot a small, jagged scar that jutted out just above his left eyebrow.

Not that that unfortunate accident shamed his masculinity in any way, oh no...

Tya would later remember in painfully accurate detail the terror that gripped her heart and the sheer horror that threw away all the sound qualities that deemed her emotionally and mentally fit when she realised that she standing face-to-face with Prince _Oberyn Nymeros Martell_. The only thing separating her from Dornishman's large, painful wrath was the kindly old septon standing before them both.

She gambled a look at the _kindly old septon_ and immediately retracted her previous statement. Who was she fooling? She was a Lannister!

May the Gods have mercy on her soul.

Her thick, blood-red Lannister cloak itched uncomfortably against her bare skin and the weight that it bore her suddenly felt painful. She subtly swallowed and forced her eyes to keep their sharp contact with that of the septon who would shortly bind both her and the _Red Viper of Dorne_ together for all eternity.

Tya struggled to refrain from moaning out of pain for her, admittedly unpleasant, unfortunate predicament.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

She couldn't help the small jump that started its way out of her system at the unexpected gravelly accent of the septon that was so unlike the High Septon's own, back at King's Landing, whom she had, through certain family occasions, become quite acquainted with. Although, much in the same way that she couldn't halt the her frightened leap, it appeared that the fellow Dornishmen - including the septon, she seethed - couldn't stop their little smirks and sneers at her awkward performance. Why, if she didn't know any better, she would have believed that they all assumed her another one of Oberyn's many paramours; and that this whole wedding was just another satirical comedic act designed to exploit the evil that was in a Lannister's heart.

However, as the Lannister maiden - _not for much longer_ that traitorous little voice in the back of her head jeered - swivelled around to glare at the mounting mirth-less laughter the Dornish were expressing, she caught sight of her betrothed's own expression as well.

She'd half-expected his face to be plastered with the same mocking features his fellow kinsmen were currently exposing, not that she needed any more humiliation; the smallfolk more than made up for his lack of enthusiasm in their plentiful supplies, but there was nothing. Nothing; no traces of mirth, or any light-heartedness that the rumours often foretold he displayed; nothing.

Except for the tiny, minute traces of rage that still lingered on his face.

Tya's mouth grew dry and she shifted her attentions instead back to the septon, unwilling to witness that look on his face any longer. _If I am to die tonight, it'd be better to get it all over and done with_. She had no wish to waste whatever precious few moments she had left on pomp and ceremony. Thankfully for her, the Dornishmen seemed to be on the same wavelength as her in this matter.

The absence of her last remaining trace back to her heritage that had once rested against her young shoulders made her feel bare; vulnerable; exposed. She was struck with the unexplainable urge to cover herself up.

The feeling of weightlessness on her shoulders felt like it lasted for an eternity but was, in all actuality, only a few seconds before her exposed skin was once again covered back up; this time with an even heavier, brightly decorative cloak - so colourful in fact that she was sure she would end up blind if she looked upon it for too long.

_Unbowed. _

The septon then ordered both Tya and the Dornish prince to lift up the hands; hers her right and his his left - where he then tied them both together with an expensive-looking ribbon cloth, sealing their fates forever. Tya resisted the urge to gag.

He then shot an apologetic look towards the Red Viper, which irked her somewhat, before he announced, "You may now look upon one another and say the words."

Her heart momentarily stopped beating as the prince standing next to her shifted his body until his gaze was locked firmly on to hers, effectively trapping her. She would have remained completely still - her brain still hadn't kickstarted back into motion - but, unfortunately, their conjoined hands meant that when he moved, she was forced to follow in his stead. Lest she end up with her hand in an awkward, and, more likely than not, painful, position - and she'd been forced to endure enough berating to last her lifetime.

But, she took a deep breath and murmured just a little out of time with the prince - following her slower reaction times:

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

_Unbent_.

And then, quite unexpectedly, Prince Oberyn leaned in slightly - having to bend down in order to compensate for her reasonably short stature -, cupped her jaw tightly in his rough, calloused hand, and pressed his lips against her frozen ones.

They lips touched for not even a fraction of a moment but it was enough to send the audience watching, what must have been a completely hysterical spectacle, into grudging applause.

But when he withdraw and turned to face the adorning crowd, forcing her to join him as result of their bound hands - almost as if they were captives -, it wasn't Lady Tya of House Lannister that greeted them with a small smile to appease their troubled souls.

It was the Princess Tya of House Martell that positively glowed.

_Unbroken_.


	6. Chapter 6

**I am so _so so so so_ terribly sorry for not having updated in two whole months. I have just been busy with life and exams and revision and I completely and utterly apologise for the lack of an update in so long. **

**I just really want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story - _it really means a lot to me!_ Especially two of my guest reviewers: likethesong and Blue-green. Your reviews really touched me and I am just so grateful to you; honestly, I do not believe that I am worthy of your reviews. _Thank you so much._**

**I really hope you enjoy this new chapter and that it was worth the wait.**

* * *

"Oberyn Nymeros Martell, this had better not be what it looks like it is!"

The Dornish prince in question shrugged, lifting one shoulder carelessly before allowing it to drop back down to its rightful place against his soft silken bedsheets. With his other hand he beckoned to the woman lying precariously amidst his bedsheets in an effort to disguise herself underneath. And it was all done whilst wearing a relatively placid expression that betrayed nothing save for his immense boredom at this rather rude interruption during one of his favourite past times.

His elder brother, however, merely sighed in exasperation at his audacity and pinched the bridge of his nose. Oberyn rolled his eyes lightly, the dark orbs rattling around inside his eyeballs, at the man's blatant over-exaggeration of his behaviour.

"Come now, brother," he spoke with a slight rasp that indicated what exactly he spent the previous five hours doing, "surely it can not be as bad as all that."

The look Doran threw his way begged to differ.

The former held up his right hand in mock-surrender whilst draping the over around the still sleeping form of the Dornish beauty laying on top of him, spent.

"Brother," the younger of the two men drawled in that Dornish accent he knew sent half of Westeros' vast population wild in lust. "Breathe. Relax. Everything is fine."

Prince Doran looked over at his bed-ridden brother and his terrible affliction with wanton women. He stared hard at the form of the illustrious Ellaria Sand - possibly one of Dorne's most infamous bastards - where she lay resting her head against his brother's chest with seductive intent.

"I believe that you and I would be better suited to have this conversation when we are both alone," he said after a moment's deliberation, now holding his gaze with Oberyn's sharp eyes which rolled in exasperation at his brother's attitude.

"Is this really necessary?" He questioned, arching a brow, and, if it were possible, the hold on the Dornish woman tightened in defence.

"I'm afraid so."

With one final roll of the eyes, Oberyn released his paramour with a regretful sigh. Doran patiently waited while his younger brother exchanged pleasant farewells with his beautiful woman who had previously been draped across his being as an extra addition to his many blankets.

The ruling Prince of Dorne witnessed Ellaria whisper something precarious in his brother's ear and Doran watched as his eyes grew wide before darkening just as he pulled her into a searing, heated kiss lasting several precious minutes before they gradually drew apart with one final peck of the lips.

Ellaria then rose from the Red Viper's bed with all the grace of a paramour who had just been caught in front of the ruling prince of Dorne. Prince Doran kept his eyes firmly trained on hers, not rising to the bait he had previously witnessed several other honourable men - and women too, come to think of it - commit when faced with a pleasure-trained woman of the night dressed in so little. The Dornish Sand sauntered provocatively - clearly attempting to entice his younger brother and, by the looks of things, the attempt had proven rather fruitful judging by Oberyn's piercing gaze - over to the door, her hips sashaying with every small movement.

As soon as the door gently clicked shut, Oberyn groaned at the coldness of his bed now that his paramour had been ordered to evacuate his bedchamber.

"Do you know how lonely I feel now? How could you have denied me her touch?"

Prince Doran appeared less than sympathetic to his supposed warrior of a brother and his over-dramatised plight. "I am certain Princess Tya would be more than qualified now more than any other to complete such a taxing task," he shrugged off-handedly, his eagled orbs cataloguing his brother squirms of displeasure and disgust at even the suggestion of such a horrific notion.

"Did you really have to ruin such a beautiful moment by bringing up the bastard's daughter?"

"No. I believe I was referring to your _wife_. Or had you forgotten that so quickly?"

When he received no reply, he pressed on, "Lord Tywin did not offer you his second daughter for you to ignore and abuse," he said. "He gifted her to you in return for a _child_, Oberyn. A _child_."

Oberyn's snake-like eyes flashed dangerously. "Do you think I am not aware of that fact?"

"I think you need reminding."

The Red Viper of Dorne was impossibly silent for the briefest period of time. "Doran, they murdered my sister."

"_Our _sister. Elia was my sister also; don't forget that."

"You know what I mean," he exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide as though waiting for someone to catch them for him to save him the trouble. "You cannot expect me to share her bed even for a second. I would not dare lay with a lioness."

The elder brother's voice was tinged with amusement as he jested, "That would imply you find her dangerous and troublesome. She may be a woman of House Lannister but I do not believe you will find any claws on that 'lioness'." He studied Oberyn's response inquisitively before adding, "I did not think the day would come where the great Oberyn Nymeros Martell was afraid."

Doran was fully anticipating the heated glower that graced the younger Martell brother's features and he clapped his hands joyously. "Do you see now? _There_ he is: the Viper who strikes fear into the hearts of men from the sound of just his name."

Oberyn sat up a little straighter at the praise.

Doran shot said Viper a condescending look and sighed. "Why can't you just do that with your wife?"

All at once, the tension grew back into the man's squared shoulders. "You know perfectly well that I can't do that," he whispered gravelly.

"And why is that? Hm?"

"Because if I so much as look at her, her head will be decorating the Gardens' floors."

Prince Doran placed his head in his hands. "Someday very, _very_ soon you will have to talk to her."

Oberyn nodded once, short and sharp. "Oh, I know. But whoever announced that it had to be this day?" He waited as the ruling prince of Dorne shook his head in exasperation at his own stubborn antiques before calling out, "Be sure to shut the door gently on your way out," as a concluding finality to the sombre conversation.

"And make sure to send Ellaria back to me. She has a reputation to maintain."

"Don't we all?"

The door clicked shut behind him, murmuring softly to itself.

* * *

The newly married Princess Tya paced back and forth in the new chambers she and her..._husband_ were gifted on the day of their wedding. Not that he ever showed up to them, of course. He was much too important to be burdened by such trivial things - like her, for instance. Especially not when the new princess knew for a fact his business concerning the beautiful Ellaria Sand occupied the majority of his time and concentration. Not to mention his stamina.

_It's just as well_ she had initially thought once the news had reached her delicate ears via a certain Dornish maid currently attending to her long-forgotten breakfast. _Better her than me_.

Truth be told, Princess Tya nor Prince Oberyn had crossed paths with one another since the shambles that was their sacred union little more than two days previous. It would appear that both parties went to great lengths to ensure that the other would remain an anonymous ghost - not that the Red Viper of Dorne would ever be content with simply remaining anonymous. No, he made sure that his new wife knew all about his terrible acts as a warning despite advances of Prince Doran to get the two within even the same hallway as one another.

However, they two were adamant not to clamp their beady eyes on each other lest they risk a deadlier bloodbath than the one that slew the last of the Targaryens save for two. No, Princess Tya categorically refused to meet her new husband even in the eye; that way it would be much more easier for her to close her eyes and imagine she was back in her child home, childishly annoying her sweet sister and pulling pranks on her lord Father with the help of her twin.

It was much safer to live in denial than face the reality of her untoward predicament.

"Princess Tya."

As expected, it was always harder to live in blatant ignorance when people loved reminding the fair lady- no, _princess _of her reality.

The woman in question barely refrained from setting free the huge sigh to all present by way of greeting. "And a good morning to you too, Dayla," she half-moaned as her eyelids fluttered open, allowing the morning light stream-

"It is the afternoon, my princess."

-allowing the _afternoon_ light stream in to her grass green orbs that spoke of the freedom she was currently _not_ breathing in.

Tya held a hand up to her head, massaging her temple. "Afternoon already. Is it really that time?"

Her Dornish handmaiden shrugged one shoulder in a half-hearted gesture. "Suppose it must be."

This time the young maiden could not hold back the sigh from announcing its arrival. "Listen, I know what you're going to say-" she started before being interrupted -_ rather rudely, I must add_ \- by her nosing busybody that made up the unique handmaiden.

"Do you? Do you really?"

"Yes."

"Well, in that case, you should already know that I do not find your behaviour satisfactory and I certainly do not condone it." She picked up the breakfast tray she herself had placed by the two-day-old Princess' bedside and heaved a great sigh when she saw that the food remained in the exact same condition as it was that very morning: barely touched. "Look at yourself, princess; you're wasting away, hiding out in your chambers so as to not run in to your new family. Soon enough, I'll be delivering breakfast to a tired, haggard lady - an old, beaten down shell of her former self."

Tya waved off her concern with a dainty gloved hand. "Why should that concern you? Would it not be for the greater good if I stayed away and wasted in to a, oh how did you put it: a tired, old, haggard lady? The shell of her former self?" Her voice wobbled precariously.

Dayla's eyes widened once she witnessed how her words had affected her princess and hurried over to where she stood, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Tya tensed at the sudden intrusion of her personal space before slowly succumbing to the warm embrace.

After a few awkward pauses, the handmaiden decided to pursue a different tactic to the stubborn young maiden and she gripped the sides of Tya's blonde head tightly, forcing her to meet her strong gaze.

"Now," she whispered fiercely, "you listen to me, princess. You _are_ a Princess of Dorne now - you are Princess Martell which is a huge honour in itself." Dayla, seeing, however, that her feeble attempts at building up the former Lannister were not running as smoothly as anticipated, changed tactics once more.

"Tya," she said, referring to her by her given name which shocked the princess into giving her her full and undivided attention, "do not let that lion you call a father beat you down. By refusing to meet with your lord husband, you are rebelling against him, yes, but what else are you doing?"

Tya frowned.

"You are allowing your sister to win. Yes, she may be queen; yes, she may produce beautiful heirs befitting of the throne but what of it? _You are_ a Martell - _you are_ the sun. Cersei Lannister is nothing more than a large cat that has been squashed to fit into the mould of a stag. You take away the stag and nothing will happen, life will go on. But if you take away the sun, well..." she shook her head as dark strands of hair grazed the side of her face. "Nothing will ever be the same again."

There was a silence as the Dornish Princess processed the words her handmaiden had just uttered before...

"I think I understood some of those words."

Dayla let out an exasperated sigh. "Be who you truly are and gain the love and adoration of the Dornish crowd because, I can assure you, your sister won't have the faintest idea of where to start with that one."

"So what you're saying is..." She let the sentence hang purposefully.

The Dornish maid took note of her princess' internal dilemma and figured she had finally hit the nail on the head.

When she next spoke, her voice was the softest Tya had ever heard the brazen woman utter.

"You will have to speak to him," she cooed gently, understanding that Tya truly was a wounded lion cub who would jump at even the slightest move and so selecting her words with careful precision. "Someday."

The princess paused. "That's easier said than done," she whispered back.

"But it _can _be done."

"How? Please tell me, oh wise and knowledgeable handmaiden of mine, tell me _how_." She was near shouting, barking orders at her like a wildling. "My _honourable_ husband hates me. No, no, hang on, let me amend: he _loathes_ me. The only way he will _have_ me will be with my head on a spike and my body drifting along the ocean seabed."

Dayla hesitated. "I'm sure he wouldn't be that cruel," she said but Tya could see that she didn't mean.

She shook her golden locks. "'Not that bad'?" She repeated. "He is worse. I would be a fool to trust him."

"And how do you know that? You have only spoken to him once and even then it was only your marriage vows - the words you were _ordered_ to say."

"How do I know-" Tya broke off, temper boiling over and she stepped away from her, arguably, only friend left to compose herself.

"I know because that is how the rest of Westeros sees me; sees my family," she finally spoke, more calmly now. "I know that and I am _afraid_, Dayla."

The woman in question took this to mean her princess was more stable and more open to reason. She inched closer and placed a comforting hand again on the fine material of the princess' glorious dress, withdrawing only when Tya stared at the offending limb and Dayla thought better at the gesture.

"How will you ever make it through life without making difficult decisions?"

It was Princess Tya who sighed this time in defeat. "This is no ordinary decision, Dayla. This is my _life_ that's at stake here."

"That's a bit dramatic," she jested, hoping for a smile but falling flat at the serious glint in Tya's abnormally green eyes.

"Is it?"

The elder woman was not altogether sure how to respond to the graveness of her princess' reply and immediately sought to change the topic to something of a more _festive_ nature.

"Are you absolutely sure that you wish to stay cooped up in here with no one but your depressive self for company?"

"_Depressive_? I am a Lannister of-"

"Casterly Rock, yes, I am aware of that. But, princess, you are now a Martell as I have said before, in vows if not in bedding, and today marks the birth of a _new year_. A new age; an opportunity to learn and grow and _adapt_ to your new surroundings. A chance to turn over a new leaf, no?"

Tya remained mute.

Dayla, refusing to be perturbed by her princess' voluntary silence, plastered a brilliant smile to lighten the mood.

"You listen to me, princess. I don't know how you and your lot chose to celebrate the beginning of a new year but here in Dorne we take these sorts of things very seriously," she softened her tone and added, "and what a great way to begin to win the hearts of the Dornish folk."

Tya frowned, finding her timid voice underneath all her worries. "How, may I ask, can I possibly manage to win Dorne over, as you say? They hate me enough as it is. I don't want to fan the flame of their obvious dislike for me anymore than I have to."

"Because, by showing that you support and _embrace _the Dornish lifestyle, you are telling the people of Dorne that you are not ashamed of them and wish to align yourself with them. Become one of them, as it were. Even you would be surprised at the number of people who laugh and snicker at us behind our backs, even more so since Robert's Rebellion, as they call it."

"I can imagine," the maiden said with a weak smile. The golden-haired princess recalled a time in her youth wherein her and Tyrion both mocked the Dornish for their zealous confidence and insatiated appetite.

But she dispelled the memory from her mind with relative ease. It was from a previous time and, as her handmaiden fervently claimed, today marked a new year built for new memories. It would not to do dwell on old ones.

Her brows furrowed together, however, when a thought struck, unbidden.

"You said _us_," she said, calling to the Dornish woman, "when talking about Dorne. You said _us_ as though you are a...part of them."

When Dayla spoke it was with an amused tone. "Yes, I did and yes, I am. I would have thought that a simple glance could have solved that little puzzle for you."

Tya ignored her jest and continued on her tangent. "Before you kept distancing yourself from them - saying _they _hate me and _they_ can not stand the Lannister family. But you slipped up when you said _us_." Her green eyes narrowed as she jumped away as though burned in the scorching heat. "You're part of them. You wish me dead also."

Dayla, who had remained silent all through Tya's rant, bore a sympathetic look. "Oh, dear. I had no idea how disturbed you are or how adamant you are that this is all some elaborate joke on your part and any moment now your lord husband or the Prince of Dorne will announce to the country your execution to a bunch of cheering monsters crying out for your head."

Tya's glare intensified.

"We're not monsters, Tya."

Tya did not respond.

"Well, I fear that I can not persuade you or your silly little golden locks to trust me - you are going to have to do that on your own terms if you ever hope to survive in this world."

"You are dismissed," Tya said coldly.

The handmaiden smiled and headed for the door. "I feared as much. But remember, child, the feast is to be held tonight as soon as the sun sets and not a moment after. Don't be late," she said as she slipped out of the door. "I look forward to seeing you there."

And Princess Tya Martell was left in her solitude.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favourite/followed and even read this story. It really means the world to me and I am, once again, sorry for the lack of an update in so long. I hope this can make up for it.**

* * *

The thumping stomp of unorganised dancing was the sound that greeted the Lannister princess as soon as her feet entered the hall of which the famed Dornish celebration was being held in. The sight that, undoubtedly, would be forever burned in to her glinting green eyes resembled that of a hunting pack of wolves having just hunted and still out for fresh meat to devour in a bloodlust rage.

She reminded herself that they were not in North nor did they bear any resemblance to the ice-cold stony faces of the Starks. She steeled her nerves, sucked in a breath for what appeared to be the final time, and braved a step into the sacred threshold.

All at once, the joyous music ceased its gleeful tune, the uncoordinated dancers halted their painfully humiliating dance and all dark pairs of eyes present in the, frankly massive, hall turned to the golden intruder. Tya ordinarily would have found the sight almost comical but ever since her lord father set his sights on marrying his second daughter to a man bent on the destruction of her former House, truth be told, she hadn't felt all that gleeful.

The watchful gaze of the snakes in their territory has the innocent princess all but biting her nails in nervous anticipation. Her instincts screamed at her to pick up her skirts and flee the scene as quick as her legs could carry her but he didn't dare move for fear of awakening the reptiles to come out and to play.

_Maybe I shouldn't have come after all_.

A sudden clapping originating from the far back where the nobility and high officials were seated startled her. She briefly refrained from leaping back in raw shock. Glancing quickly over at the hissing snakes, she could gather the feeling was most definitely mutual as the one particular man cleared his throat sharply and began to clap fervently:

Prince Doran smiled as more hesitant claps filled the large hall, the acoustics vibrating as the little lords and ladies obeyed their rulers silent commands.

"Princess Tya," he said with a warm smile, appearing for all intents and purposes as honest as she had ever witnessed him, despite her smart, Lannister instincts screaming at her not to trust this pompous Dornish prince. "I am honoured to see you here. This traditional celebration is one we Dornishmen take great pride in and, speaking for myself, I am thrilled at your being here. Truly, I had not expected your arrival and, may I say, I am happy to see you here, gracing us all with your presence."

And with that, the ruling prince of Dorne concluded his brief speech, lifting his glass cup to her by way of good will.

Princess Tya was instantly wary at his open invitation and was sure, judging by the confused glances being directed around the hall by fellow Dornishmen, she was not the only one.

Hesitant music once again breathed life into the halls after their prince's warm declaration of her invitation. Needless to announce, however, sly venomous glares - no matter how insignificant the gestures may be - were still fired at the young princess.

_If looks could kill..._ She shuddered.

Her brilliantly green eyes desperately roamed the crowded hall for a friendly face which was becoming slowly more and more of a rarity in Tya's case. No self-respecting Dornishman would willingly align themselves with a Lannister maiden, not if they held their life in high esteem. The princess was learning, quickly becoming accustomed to the Dornish way of life.

You never know when certain knowledge may prove useful.

It soon became apparent to the golden maiden, however, that she had, in her uncertainty, remained firmly rooted to the ground, her feet holding her there. She could tell that her reluctance to move had created a strong dynamic pin in the dancing, going by the strangely abnormal cramped dancers currently squashing themselves into the walls to distance themselves from the higher among them (notably, _her_).

Although, Princess Tya had an inkling that their unwillingness to be deserving of her presence was along the lines of them excluding her from their cultural traditions rather than a show of respect.

Nonetheless, she came to the reasonably plausible conclusion that she could not remain standing in the same spot for the duration of the evening. Not only was she receiving deathly, accusatory glares for interfering in the Dornishmen's proud festival but it was also undoubtedly rude to continuously demand the spotlight.

It was a shame Cersei did not share the same manners as she did.

Wobbling precariously on shaky legs, Tya chanced the first step away from the centre. And another. And another. Already the annoyed Dornishfolk were edging away from the edge and back toward the centre, their frowns slowly dissipating the more the princess kept to the shadows until at last, their angry, judgemental daggers drifted away into nothingness and the song filled their souls.

Within the span of a blink of an eye, the princess was wiped clean from their memories and, sooner rather than later, they began to forget all about the golden forgery of a princess was filled their night with joy and celebration.

"Princess Tya! How wonderful it is to see you here, my princess."

_Dayla_.

Tya felt a small smile tug at the sharp corners of her mouth at her loyal handmaiden's words. "Thank the gods you're here," she said, utterly relieved she had finally located her friendly acquaintance. "You're the only one I can trust."

Her handmaiden did not blush at her princess' kind words nor did she bow or simper or curtsey at her presence. The Dornish maiden did not find the more traditional of Westeros' customs so terribly pleasing. It was not at all what she was used to. Instead, her outspoken and brazen handmaiden merely rolled her eyes at Tya's heartfelt declaration of emotion and grasped the sleeve of her dress with blatant excitement.

"Come, come. There's no need for that, my princess," was all she said. "Not when there's fun to be had."

Princess Tya's small smile, which had previously remained with delicate precision on her made-up face, began slipping considerably once her eyes caught sight of Dayla's longing stare being drawn to the centre of the hall where the _graceful_ dancing was situated.

"No. No, Dayla," she whispered quietly, her breath coming out in little hisses of fear the more closer Dayla grew. "We can't- _I_ can't. I can't spoil their celebration; it's not fair."

"Why will you be ruining the celebration, my princess?"

"You know why," she hissed; "I'm nothing more than a treacherous Lannister and all the world hates a treacherous Lannister." She would have thought that much would have been fairly obvious to grasp.

"No, you're not."

"I...what?"

"You are not a 'treacherous Lannister', as you say, any longer as I have stated numerous times in the past, my princess." Dayla sighed. "You are wed to Prince Oberyn now - you belong here. You are more of a Dornishman than the entirety of those dancing fools you seem so afraid of."

"But I'm not- I- I- I'm not a Martell," Tya feebly resisted against her handmaiden's sound logic, despite the true honesty she felt radiating behind every syllable.

"Then why did you come here?"

Tya sobered up in an instant.

But Dayla wasn't finished: "How can you possibly hope to change _your people__'s_ views on _you..._if _you_ can't even accomplish the same?"

That gave her considerable pause and she darted her eyes to where _her people_ were currently dancing. Dayla noted this sudden change in her princess' demeanour and knew her words had penetrated Tya's façade.

"I'm going over to join the dancing so if you do decide to overcome your fears and truly connect with the people of Dorne, my princess, then you'll know where I'll be."

"No, Dayla, wait, I-" Tya felt the fear at losing her one and only sanctity to the snakes stalking their prey but her stubborn handmaiden either was too far out of earshot or deliberately choosing to ignore her futile pleas. Knowing her handmaiden, the latter would be the more predictable of the two.

Tya briefly considered ordering her handmaiden to remain by her in the same fashion the Westerland handmaidens would do so without the incentive. She had enough rank - she could do it and if any fool dared question her judgement then she could simply dangle her status as princess and if that failed to strike fear deep into the heart then Lord Tywin Lannister and her new brother bound by marriage, King Robert Baratheon, were nothing short of a letter away.

Even as the thought fluttered through her mind, she knew she could not. How could she? She could not win Dorne by changing the way it thought; the way it behaved and the way it spoke. What possible outcome could there be that would end with her on top? None. No, if she was going to be a Princess of Dorne then she would have to be the one to change - not the other way around.

But putting her new ploys into practice would prove another difficulty altogether and-

A sharp pair of eyes pierced through her newfound resolve with all the ease of carving a cake. Her breathing hitched. Without inclining her head to the side, she already knew the face that matched the cruel dark orbs currently glaring a thousand daggers into her.

_Oberyn_ her mind supplied helpfully.

_Your husband_ her hear quaked decidedly not so helpfully.

_I knew it was a bad idea - you coming here. I said so, didn't I? You've gone and fallen straight into their trap, Tya. This was always what was going to happen and now there's no one here to bail you. You're on your own and now you're going to die on your own; a million miles from the place you once called home with no one here who loves you. Even Tyrion wouldn't dare venture in this unbearably hot deathbed. You'll forever be remembered as the Lannister Cursed with Stupidity._

Tya shook her head to banish those thoughts clean from her mind. They were the weak ramblings of a little Lannister and she was a Martell. She was unbroken, untameable and free.

She was Princess Martell and in the Light of the Seven Gods, the Seven Kingdoms and of every fucking Lannister she was going to retain that title before it disintegrated into the billowing dust that her fear transformed her into.

"My princess, would you care for a drink?"

She almost started at the unfamiliar tone spoken in gruff Dornish. A maid holding a delicate chalice filled to the brim graced her sight when she spun to directly face the maid - after all, regardless of her family reputation she was, first and foremost, a lady and a lady has prized manners and traditions to uphold.

A quick whiff of the foul substance was enough to cause her stomach to turn unpleasantly.

_I don't like wine._

"No," she politely refused, "thank you."

A faint scoff reached her ears and it took her a while to realise it had originated from the Dornish maid herself.

_"'How will you ever make it through life without making difficult decisions?'"_

"On second thoughts," Tya interrupted with a loud grin, "I think I might have it after all," she said and, with a quick flick of the wrist, deftly grasped the cool glass and downed the contents in one in quite an unladylike action.

To say the Dornish lady was shocked would be an understatement. What was even more surprising was the brilliant grin that stretched Tya's pale face when she sucked in the last sip and handed the glass back with a polite Thank You Very Much.

And, with nothing else to do but simply stand and gape, the maid spun on her heel and stalked away, making the man's steely gaze on Tya's back all the more profound.

Before she could talk herself out of it in a voice that resembled that of her _loving _lord father, Princess Tya turned and faced her fear head on, her liquid courage acting as a strong guide.

And there he was: standing there all fierce and deadly and dangerous in the same countenance as he was not even two days previous on their wedding day. She boldly met his gaze - she did not flinch, not once. Not ever. There was something beautifully entrancing about the bottomless pits of his eyes; something hypnotic. She found she could not look away - not even as she tried.

In the end the spell was broken as soon and as swiftly as it was cast. A faint whimper of disappointment laced a small fraction of her mind even as the majority was screaming in silent relief.

Her eyes analysed the deadly viper standing at the end of the hall, more freely than she had previously without the poisonous stare piercing straight through her.

The man was every inch she remembered. The sharp features cut through her field of vision so bitingly she could feel the sting from where she stood. The sheer power and control he radiated had her all but shying away except something caught her eye.

It was a hand clutching the yellow fabric of her _husband__'s _royal clothing in a scrunched ball; incessantly; possessively. Specifically, it was a young, feminine hand seductively entrancing the man beneath the fine material. There was only one woman who possessed the power to perform such an action and provoke that intense response.

Ellaria Sand: the Dornish bastard fucking her husband.

Princess Tya remained there, standing in the shadows, acting as a human statue, her eyes glued to the actions of the little hussy. Her mouth, whispering filthy promises filled with the allure of lust. The golden-haired Martell knew Ellaria Sand by her promiscuous reputation only and Tya realised soon that it was unprecedented among the entirety of Dorne and maybe even the whole of Westeros.

It appeared from where she stood that the Sand had fully captivated the younger of the Martell brothers with her pretty lies and mouthy breath and began leading him out of the hall where Tya and the Viper had exchanged their lawful vows not two days before in sight of gods and men.

And not one of them lifted a finger, said a word.

All at once, she felt her nervous energy drain from her being and she ached from the hardship her life - more notably, her _marriage_ \- had become. Tya felt confused, lost, disorientated. How could she possibly hope to tame the wild beast that was Dorne if her Dornish husband was firmly under the spell of the beautiful Sand? For she most certainly could not without the support of her _loving _new family.

But as her gaze drifted toward the older man seated at the head of the table from which both her husband and his mistress had excused themselves from, her eyes whispered that all had not quite been lost, despite her instincts screaming at her in protest.

Steeling her resolve once more, Princess Tya perfected her dress, patted her elaborate hairstyle delicately, noting that not a single strand of golden hair had escaped its cruel confinements - a fact Tya took great pleasure in noting. With a fake smile plastered across her pale complexion, she placed one high heeled foot in front of the another, bracing for the deadly stares and evil looks to penetrate her Lannister mask as she braved stepping back into the light and strutting over to the high table as though she owned it.

"Prince Doran," she purred as her feet arrived at their destination. "Is this seat taken?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Once again I am so so _so _incredibly sorry about the lack of update in five months. I was just so busy with exams and school work and plays and _holidays_. But, hopefully, this chapter will make up for it... hopefully.**

**Thank you to the guest, LadyKatherine29 for supplying me with the amazing ideas for this update. Truly, thank you.**

**And I really want to say a huge thank you to every single one of you who have favourited/followed/read the story. I cannot tell you how much it really means to me and I want to take the time to thank you :)**

**Now, onto the next chapter.**

* * *

Tya Martell smiled swiftly, lips curving with a certain predatory gleam that had become something of a signature trademark of hers in the past weeks. The princess was embracing her inner lioness and she was _loving _it. The power that came with this secret prowess had her addicted and dependant and wondering how. How by the Gods - _how _had she ever lived before this? My, if she had understood the cravings Cersei experienced then she would have done this years ago. Perhaps then she could have wormed her sly little way out of the deranged show marriage she found herself trapped in and even become Queen, beating her evil sister once and for all. Earn her place in her lord father's mind - for his mind was sharper and much more precious to him than his heart ever would be.

"And how are you and my brother faring, Princess Tya?"

The Dornish wine, a delicacy Tya could not believe she had not previously had the pleasure of tasting, froze where it had wilfully wandered to her rosy lips within the confinements of the goblet. Her smile died.

Even after all these weeks _still_ the mere mention of the illustrious Red Viper of Dorne overcame all those boundaries she had established for her own safety and protection and single-handedly managed to knock her equally power hungry walls with little more than a _huff_ and a _puff._

Tya carefully repainted the pretty smile she had perfected over the lonesome days and weeks and her wine glass resumed its journey to her awaiting mouth wherein she took a gulp of the relaxing liquid courage before replying and hoping against hope that Prince Doran could not see the shake of her hand nor the wobble in her voice.

"Prince Oberyn and I are faring quite well, my prince. Truly," she said.

The prince offered the ghost of a smile in her direction. "It warms my heart to hear that, my princess. So often are arranged marriages able to bring about such satisfaction and contentment within couples."

Doran paused. "But, may I ask, what exactly brought this change on? For before if I recall correctly you and my dear brother were busy playing hide and go seek with one another and not daring to be in the same hall as each other, let alone sharing your company together."

"You may, Prince Doran. You see, I had only came to truly appreciate how loving and truthful my lord husband is thanks to the help of the lady Ellaria Sand."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The lady Ellaria Sand."

At his growing confusion, she faked a placid expression to grace her features before continuing with, "I apologise, my prince, if I have offended you so. I, myself, was reluctant to allow a woman of her birth into my home, especially considering her stature," she hissed under her breath. "But I was led to believe that here in Dorne - my new home - I am to accept people of all births and circumstance," she said passionately in a manner not unlike that of a martyr.

"But now I cannot help but admire her. To have climbed all those steps to rise above her lowly birth and to stand tall and proud amongst the rest of us." She shook her head. "In truth, I respect her."

"Well, I am pleased to hear that," he said when he managed to regain his composure. "It is true. Many Dornish bastards are kind at heart and here in Dorne we do not despise them as many others would."

Recognising that subtle jab she quickly amended with an outraged cry: "Prince Doran! Please forgive me if I gave you pause to believe I was merely japing. To be perfectly honest, I think that the lords and ladies of the court could learn a great deal regarding the nature of bastards. Especially when taken into account the great difficulties and and challenges they have been forced to overcome just to be seen in the same light as the rest of us."

"I couldn't agree more, princess."

Tya smiled. "I thank the Gods every day for bringing me to you," she finally uttered with a low tone, seducing him, peering up at the prince through dark lashes.

Doran raised a questioning eyebrow. "And what of your lord husband - my brother?"

"Of course, of course. I.._like_ Prince Oberyn a great deal. Extremely so, even, when I caught wind of what the Lady Sand has informed me of him."

"And what, pray tell, has she told you of my brother?"

_I don't know. Let me ponder that for a moment... Oh, yes: what he likes to eat; what his favourite position is; how when you touch him just like that he unravels and comes completely apart._

"Only the truth of how faithful he is to me."

Smirking, the eyed the calm disposition of the man seated opposite her with an overzealous glint. Being forced to spend every day until her last day holed up in this sand pit allowed her to inquisitively examine the Dornish prince and his subtle moods and emotions that betrayed his true intentions.

Prince Doran remained outwardly as impassive as ever - save for the slight twitch in his eye and the jumping muscle leaping out from his forehead.

Good. She had struck a nerve.

Her conquest of Dorne was proving fruitful, to say the least.

"I am sure my lord father would be immeasurably grateful were I to inform him of the kind Lady Sand's charity," she continued lightly, "wouldn't you agree, my prince?"

His voice was cold as ice. "I couldn't agree more."

Princess Tya Martell took a sip of the Dornish wine she grown to love and grinned.

It was at that most opportune, albeit deliberately tense, moment that a _tap-tap_ ratted against the door. Doran murmured a polite, "Enter!" and Tya retained a neutral face.

"Prince Doran, Princess Tya," the messenger spoke in greeting, barely holding the lioness' gaze before training his eyes firmly on the ground just in front of where the Dornish prince was sitting - the Tya of old would have bristled at such rejection in his glance but, now, she was perfectly accustomed to such things and instead merely refrained an eye roll. "I apologise for interrupting you at this late hour but I wouldn't have if it weren't important."

"Carry on."

"There was a rider in the night," he said, brandishing a minute scroll seemingly from thin air.

Prince Doran accepted the proffered scroll from the boy's hand.

It was Tya who broke the silence. "Why, that's King Robert's seal," she exclaimed. She could recognise the crowned stag seal anywhere. Cersei had often wafted the seal in her face as she proclaimed that she had better get acquainted with the seal for it would be the one that she would be writing in _from this day until my last day_.

Doran's grim expression was enough to silence her. Waiting on baited breath, she watched as the elder prince carefully broke the royal wax seal and unravelled the contents of the parchment.

She studied the expressions that flitted across his face intently, attempting to decipher the emotions that warranted such features, his eyes glued to the murky words on the paper.

"Well," he murmured once his eyes halted their fast path and instead bore into the messenger's own. "It would appear that the King is riding to Sunspear. With the Hand and his Queen."

Tya's heart sank as she digested the small tidbits of information she, ever so generously, received.

_Queen Cersei Baratheon__...that makes me want to vomit a little in my mouth_. She had the funny feeling it made the Stag King throw up too; being married to such a conniving, manipulative beast.

And Cersei wouldn't have it any other way.

But the golden Martell gave what she hoped was a convincing smile and proclaimed in her best voice, "That is wonderful news! I haven't seen my beloved sister since before I arrived here and it would be good to see how she is faring down at the capital." _Probably thriving, no doubt_.

Prince Doran appeared to be buying her white lie, however, which gave her no small amount of satisfaction in being able to manipulate such a man. Perhaps now she could finally be a contender in the games her sister used to play.

But clearly, the messenger was not finished. The brave Dornishman turned his frame to face her, daring himself to meet her wilful gaze.

"There is more. For the Princess."

Tya's frown deepened. "Tell me."

He produced yet another scroll, small than the one bearing the crowned stag, and handed it over. "It's from your lord father, my princess."

The princess' blood ran cold as she eyed the boy in front of her glaringly as though challenging him to lie to her before she promptly tore the lion seal and fumbled to open it with none of the skill nor grace Doran possessed.

The contents were little, representative of Lord Tywin's blunt, direct manner. The writing, intricate - seemingly everything he did was executed to perfection - but the matter-of-fact wording and what they instructed of her were enough to send her spiralling into a blind rage.

**_I expect to hear of an heir soon enough._**

Her blood, which had frozen in her veins, began pumping around her system at an almost impossible level.

_How dare he order me around as though I am nothing more than the muck on the bottom of his shoe! How dare he treat me as less than what I am. I am a Princess of Dorne! Princess Martell! My rank is higher than his own!_

She looked up as the ruling prince of Dorne dismissed the servant of ill will and quickly schooled her features into something more placid and neutral.

He did not inquire as to what her lord father had written, no, for he had more honour than that. Honour more than his own brother whom she had not crossed paths with since the festivals that sparked the sudden change in her.

He did not look at her with pity in her eyes (_no, for she was a lioness first and foremost and was much more dangerous_) or question her mental being.

What he did do was politely thank her for gracing him with her pleasant company and calmly set about collecting the crockery and cutlery whilst she watched with grateful eyes.

_Gods be good, if my father forced me to marry the sun and spear then why couldn't it have been him?_

* * *

"My princess," she said, "when Prince Doran ordered you to be ready for the arrival of the royal family, I don't think this is what he had in mind."

A large colourful, albeit rather grubby, establishment graced their presence, overshadowing their forms.

_A whorehouse._

The wave of disgust that washed over the golden haired princess had settled into a look of grim determination. With a hearty cry of _Come On Dayla!_ she bunched up her skirts and marched on to certain doom, the mud and grim licking her clean dress that showed far more skin than would have been considered modest in the majority of Westeros.

_But they weren't in the majority of Westeros, were they?_

"Excuse me, good ser, but I have requested the audience of your finest performer," Tya announced in her best regal voice, looking every bit as though she were conversing politely with the finery of Westeros as opposed to sharing company with the owner of this rather _fine_ establishment.

The man simply stared at her as though she had magically grown two heads. He muttered something incoherent under his breath before spontaneously bursting into hearty, grubby laughter.

Tya shot Dayla a look of pure discombobulation at the man's frank reaction. The handmaiden offered her princess a shared look of confusion but inwardly was preparing herself for a long day.

With a polite cough that gradually grew louder and louder the more she was ignored, the Dornishman ceased his incessant giggling and regarded the pair of them with a growing look of annoyance.

"What the fuck 'ya on about?" he said gruffly, judging the pair of them with narrowed eyes.

"Well, I-" Tya started again, faltering at the man's blasphemous tone. "If I could please request a room for I am weary from my travels and I require, um...well-" she trailed off, eyes widening in minute shock.

The Dornishman scratched his balls swiftly but surely, the relief there glinting his mud-brown eyes.

"And?"

The Martell opened her mouth to speak but no sound would come out, her eyes glued to the man who had the sheer audacity to perform what he just did.

_How awful!_ her mind cried in horror. _The absolute cheek of it! By the Gods, is this the same for all Dornishmen because if so then I'm not sure I have the stomach to stand ruling this place._

"We're in lust. We've been hiding this growing attraction between us but we just can't fight it anymore." She took a chanced glance at the princess who had gone from staring, unblinking, at the man and his disrespectful demeanour to glancing at her terrifying handmaiden with scared eyes.

"_What are you doing?_" Tya hissed out the corner of her mouth, fighting to retain her smile.

"_Improvising!_"

And, to the golden Martell's utter amazement, the Dornishman appeared to be buying their little...lust affair, if his obvious excitement wasn't enough to go by.

"Yes," Tya smiled, easily slipping into character, "Yes. And because we are so in love-"

"_Lust._"

"_Lust_. Because we are so in lust, we hurried on our way to this rather _fine _looking establishment to continue our...our..."

Dayla, noticing her princess' obvious difficulty in continuing on their far-fetched and unbelievably wild fable, stepped in to help, "lust making," she supplied helpfully.

Tya nodded fervently, ignoring her own internal retching at the mere mental image of their conversation. She prayed her external expressions did not convey her true emotions.

The grimy little man smiled wickedly, not helping Tya's mental image subside. He sneered, yellow teeth cracking through the gaps his thin lips made.

"Give me a demonstration."

Tya's heart stopped beating.

"A- A what?"

"A demonstration," Dayla whispered in the princess' ear.

"Give me a demonstration of the lust you two have together," he said, "and then maybe, I'll let you get a room together."

Tya raised a pointed eyebrow.

"Free of charge," he grudgingly muttered.

And then Tya felt a forceful pressure on her lips and it took her a moment to realise that Dayla was kissing her.

The kiss was short and sharp and was over in a flash. Seeing as the only other kiss Tya had received had been from her husband during their "farce of a wedding" - as some of the Dornish men, women and children had taken to slating it - she couldn't exactly base the kiss Dayla had given her on the sorry excuse for the hateful, abhorrent peck her and the illustrous Oberyn Martell shared.

Within the split second their lips touched Tya experienced a thousand and one different emotions and different feelings that were so unlike those ignited by Oberyn's kiss.

It was over when the Dornish man coughed.

"Anything else?" Dayla inquired with a saucy smirk.

Tya stared dumbfounded at her Dornish handmaiden, shocked that she would even consider acting as though she were a harlot. The Lannister-Martell worried that she would be recognised - it would not due to be seen with a harlot.

"N-No. You may have the room. The key's over on my desk."

"Excellent!"

Tya gasped when she felt a warm hand grasping her own tightly. She faked a smile and allowed herself to be led to their room.

Only when the duo were inside the rather large accomation did Tya fully unleash her disbelief and anger at her handmaiden's brazen advances.

"How dare you speak to me in that manner or presume to touch me so colloquially. I am your princess and your superior, not some common Dornish whore. I know the two may be mutually exclusive here in Dorne but I would expect you to understand the proper relationship a princess and her handmaiden should be having," she ranted, near heaving for breath once she had finished.

Now it was the handmaiden's turn.

"I was under the belief that the whole purpose behind this ploy was to further your own sexual prowress and embrace Dornish culture," she all but hissed, surprising Tya with her ferocity. "Was it not your wish to learn new techniques, as you so eloquently put it, so as to become unfaithful to your Dornish husband in Dorne and instead seduce the King of the Seven Kingdoms - who just so happens to be wed to your sister!"

Tya stared dumbfounded at the venom that dripped with Dayla's every word. She had not anticipated quite this reaction from her handmaiden and she was, not for the first time, struck with the urge to reprimand the ungrateful woman for daring to speak to _Tya Lannister_ in that manner.

But then she sobered up and reminded herself that she was Tya Martell now and would henceforth act accordingly.

"I am merely embracing typical Dornish life, Dayla. I would expect you to understand that," she replied coldly.

"Yes, my princess." She knew better than to antagonise the golden lady further. "Shall we prepare?"

Tya nodded once; short and sharp.

"Yes," she said with as much air and grace as one can muster when they are about to learn the particularly skilled art of pleasure. "Yes, I believe we should."

"Okay," Dayla said. "I'll go get one of these brazen Dornish whores you love so much in here to teach you the proper techniques."

"What about you? Are you not going to be the one teaching me?"

"Who do you think I am, my princess? A whore?"

Tya gasped. "No, of course not. I was just under the impression that all married Dornish women were well versed in matters tending to the marital bed."

Dayla snorted. That was a polite way of saying she was a Dornish whore.

The door shut behind her softly.

Moments later, Dayla returned to the room with a Dornish whore named Elia who specialised in most unladylike professions.

"Elia..." Tya mused, attempting to strike up conversation. "Is that after the late Princess?"

The whore clicked her tongue. "Yes. The one your father's henchmen butchered and you replaced."

_Wonderful. It's always nice to know you're loved by a Dornish whore._

Elia covered the basics with the golden princess; namely how to rid oneself of their garments in a manner that causes arousal in the partner.

"Man or woman?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Are you trying to impress a man or a woman?"

Tya had to remind herself that yes, this was Dorne and here in Dorne, people of every sexuality are accepted and even preferred.

"A man- yes, a man!"

"Okay, well, for a man there needs to be a show of dominance. You are in charge, not him," Elia explained.

"And how do I make myself in charge without opposition?"

Elia stared Tya straight in the eyes.

"You make him."

Tya averted her eyes, disliking the harsh stare she was receiving.

The sharp slap to her cheek brought snapped her green stare back to the Dornish whore with a sudden ferocity.

"What do you think you are doing," Tya hissed slowly. "I could have your hand for that."

Elia waved off her threats. "You diverted your eyes. You passed control over to me. _Nev__er _do that, do you hear me?" She lifted Tya's chin with a long, bony finger, forcing the princess to meet her gaze. "Eyes hold power. Not keeping eye contact is a sign of weakness. Remember that."

Tya nodded but her determination quickly turned to confusion as she let her gaze slip around the room before resting back on Elia, almost accusingly.

"Where is Dayla?"

"Frankly, I have no idea. Do I look like a keeper to you?"

"No but..."

"Listen, you are here for _you_, do you hear me. Forget Dayla, forget Oberyn, forget all of it. Dayla won't be there holding your hand when you make love to a man."

Elia paused. "Unless that's what you're in to."

Tya shook her head vehemently.

"Good. Now let's begin." Elia glanced at her mockingly. "Unless, of course, you would rather wait for your handmaiden." At Tya's determined glance, the whore grinned again.

"Excellent."


End file.
